


forget me nots and twisted feelings

by YouarethereasonIwrite



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Attempt at Humor, Bonding, Comedy, Drunken Shenanigans, Embarrassment, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Genderfluid Character, Hand Jobs, Hospitals, Imagery, Light Angst, M/M, Mean Girls References, Misunderstandings, Multi, Poetic, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Slow Burn, Smut, Trans Male Character, Vicchan Lives, bowling, motorcycle accident
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 11:27:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 94,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9233177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouarethereasonIwrite/pseuds/YouarethereasonIwrite
Summary: Yuuri didn't even think rent-a-boyfriend programs even existed until Phichit signs him up for one for Christmas.  He's hesitant to try and has less self confidence than a rock. Despite all this, he's willing to at least become friends with the "boyfriend".The only downside is that now he can't stop thinking of Viktor Nikiforov, his "boyfriend", even knowing that their relationship is fake and Viktor will never love him back. Or will he?





	1. sweet lilacs

 

 

 

It’s all Phichit’s fault. Yuuri is literally one strand away from shaving his whole head off from pure stress and desperation. He should have expected something like this to happen from Phichit of all people, so he’s a little more disappointed in himself for not realizing the signs much sooner so he can avoid this whole situation. In retrospect, maybe blindly agreeing with Phichit’s wild exclamations while embarking on a journey to pass said man in Candy Crush wasn’t one of his smarter moves. Regardless, because of his distracted mindset and a mischievous roommate with too much time on his hands, Yuuri finds himself in a quite odd predicament. 

“Hello, Yuuri!” The man with icy blue eyes holding warmth (an oxymoron, his nerdy brain supplies past the stunted heat he suddenly found on his cheeks) greeted easily. The first thing Yuuri notices is the daring red v-neck sweater--probably cashmere because the man practically reeked of money--that dipped down to the planes of his chest. If Yuuri was any weaker of a man, his eyes would have lingered on the structured collarbones sculpted like a deity’s lavish body.

“Uhh…” Yuuri says instead because he’s nothing but an awkward, bumbling idiot who can’t listen to his overly helpful best friend. He barely registers a voice that sounded suspiciously like Phichit excitedly yelling at him to comment on the handsome man’s appearance, maybe even offer to suck his dick in the next five seconds. 

Instead, Yuuri is left with his dumb self as he asks, “Um, who are you?” He leaves out the “again” since Phichit  _ did  _ originally explain the whole scenario on the way to the homey, bustling cafe. In fact, Yuuri is so far gone after experiencing a near heart attack that he barely remembers the man’s name that Phichit all too cheerfully chanted until it was ingrained in Yuuri’s muddled, irritated head.

The silver haired male’s grin dampers slightly, bright white teeth hidden behind plush, pursed pink lips. An odd gleam of his eye catches Yuuri’s attention, but just as soon as it appears, it vanishes behind the other’s carefully placed mask. His accent is thicker, huskier when he speaks, and Yuuri wonders if this is all some ploy Phichit made, if this person in front of him is paid by his friend on the whim just so Yuuri can finally (and technically) agree on a blind date. 

“Viktor Nikiforov.” Ah, Russian, Yuuri thinks. He pinks just a little at the other’s tone. “It’s a pleasure to see you face to face, Yuuri Katsuki.” Viktor adds a wink just for good measure; if Yuuri isn’t already besotted with him, he sure as hell is now. Viktor carries himself with obvious charm and handsome charisma, if the doe eyed, pink faced servers and customers around them are any indication. Yuuri flushes under the intense heat and weight of jealous, curious gazes on the two of them, and curses Phichit even more so for creating this whole mess. 

Right. This wasn’t his fault, it was  _ Phichit’s _ . All Yuuri had to do was explain himself, apologize for his friend (for what? The millionth time?), and carry on with his life as if this was all some lucid dream after his best friend slipped him something on accident. “Accident”. 

However, he doesn’t get too far when Viktor opens his mouth again and words are delicately sung out with magical notes. 

“So, Yuuri,” he pauses, sips at the offered water from a meek, starry eyed waitress who squeals softly under her breath after Viktor fixes his attention on her with a curved turn of his lips, “I’m assuming this is your first time?” Well, when he words it like that…

“Uh, yes?” Yuuri is still slightly disoriented from the whole meeting-basically-a-model-like-idol situation Phichit somehow managed to land him in. Surprisingly enough, this isn’t the worst thing his Thai friend has created; it’s a whole lot better than the first and only blind date Yuuri’s ever been on. Why Phichit decided to hook Yuuri up with a fucking  _ brony  _ of all things is a bigger mystery than Mona Lisa’s smile. The amounts of “no homos” would last Yuuri a lifetime.

Viktor chuckles softly. His voice etches into Yuuri’s skin like a needle as the raven haired man’s eyes enlarge. “It’s okay. I’ll be sure to go easy on you since it is your first time.” His voice drops an octave, eyes lidded to a half mast as he calmly takes the straw from his iced lemon water into his mouth and gently sucks. 

Yuuri shuffles his feet as a hot spark nestles into his stomach and disappears into the tightening suction of his jeans. He crosses one leg over the other, nearly jostles the table up and successfully knocking everything off, before pretending absolutely nothing is wrong. The responding sly smile thrown at him from Viktor like a carcass to a pack of starving hyenas is enough for Yuuri to nearly commit seppuku with the nearby butter knife.

“R-Right!” He inwardly curses himself for the squeak, but barges on in hopes of ending this “date” and sprinting back home to strangle Phichit to death. Maybe he would even videotape the whole thing so that Phichit’s followers on all of his social media would know the unfortunate death of Phichit Chulanont. Yuuri hears the whisper from Phichit’s dead corpse: “I knew you were into voyeurism!” and nearly bangs his head against the table.

Unfortunately, Yuuri’s aware of how awkwardly silent it’s become. Viktor’s eyes stray over all of his body, zipping back and forth, back and forth from the top of his head to the end of his midsection that wasn’t covered by the table. Yuuri squirms a little in his seat and nearly chokes on his spit when he feels Viktor’s foot rubbing onto his ankle.

“Well, Yuuri, what are your likes and dislikes? Any hobbies?” As he speaks, Viktor presses a little closer, leans in until Yuuri’s head is spinning from the cloud of expensive cologne and spicy cinnamon wafting into his nose. He’s slowly dying, he thinks, and he sends a quick prayer to whatever deity so that his dog, Vicchan, is taken care of once he’s dead.

“I’d like to know more about you,  _ Yuuri _ .” The tip of Viktor’s shoe swoops up, skimming at the rough jeans clad on Yuuri’s legs. It’s a ticklish feeling, kind of like a fly’s wings buzzing against his skin. But instead of an annoying pesk, it’s a hot stranger his best friend set him up with that wants to play footsie with him. 

Immediately, Yuuri shoves his body back from the table to avoid anymore of Viktor’s possible foot fetish. The man’s foot was slowly circling around the start of his thigh which prompted Yuuri to escape from the dangerously  _ hot  _ situation. Being surrounded by other people in public already fueled his anxiety; therefore, Viktor’s playful games caused a sudden bout of anxiety to unfurl into his lungs and captivate his breath even more than the other man already had. 

Viktor pouts a little, but he catches the hint and slowly pulls his leg back. Once he gives a reassuring, friendly smile to Yuuri, the other male heavily releases a short breath of air that drains out the rest of his energy for the day. He’s desperate enough to simply hightail it out of the room to return home without even uttering a single goodbye.

“Um…” 

“Did your friend set you up on this?” Viktor interrupts. Yuuri freezes in his step, wide eyed concentration setting on the Russian male who’s face is unreadable. Yuuri nervously scratches his cheek, his eyes flitting down to the creamy color of the tablecloth to avoid eye contact.

“Was it that obvious?” He chuckles wetly, suddenly thinking of how pathetic he must surely look to this professional whatever he is.

“Believe it or not, there are many people I’ve worked with that were just like you.” Viktor hums. “Timid, a little awkward, tongue tied…” He bluntly listed and with each trait he counted off, Yuuri flinched. 

“But, I’m not here to judge, Yuuri.” Yuuri startles at the warmth of the other’s hand resting on top of his. He hadn’t realized how frigidly freezing his hands had become until Viktor settled his own palm over his, Viktor’s thumb carving soft circles into his frozen skin. Yuuri shyly peeks up from behind his too large glasses; he’s met with Viktor’s honest and serious expression, eyes an eerie sky blue that pierced his heart. His beautiful orbs were shockingly azule with long snowy eyelashes to boot. Fit in a crimson Christmas like sweater, Viktor is the epitome of “winter wonderland”. 

“I can tell you’re really nervous, Yuuri. If you’re willing to, I would be more than happy to talk over these details at my apartment. It’s not too far from here.” Viktor offers with a candid smile. Yuuri gulps hastily, eyes searching for any sort of malicious intent in soft summer eyes. Despite the winter of his hair and the frosted ice in his eyes, Viktor is warmer than the August sun, and Yuuri is left basking in the hot aftermath. He’s sweltering on the inside, but something that feels suspiciously like spring--the new  _ beginnings _ \--sprouts in his heart and blossoms into the curve of his jugular.

“Okay.” He finds himself saying. He sounds foreign, even to himself. Viktor could have asked to chop him up into little pieces for his dinner, and Yuuri still would have said yes. He’s dangerously ethereal, Yuuri realizes. Viktor is capable of bewitching the masses if he so desired. 

Yet, as Viktor squeezes his hand one second and lets go in another, Yuuri is swarmed by an unpleasant blanket of frigid snow that casts like a blizzard in his chest. Yuuri returns half a smile, crooked like the rest of his appearance, as Viktor kindly excuses himself, places enough money to cover up both of their expenses, slips Yuuri his phone number, and straightens up to his full height. 

He’s gone like a sweet summer breeze by the time Yuuri can even blink.

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


“You’re a hopeless mess.” Seung-Gil Lee points out from across the table as he munches on a burger. Phichit snickers behind his drink, batting his eyelashes innocently when Yuuri half-heartedly glares at him while munching on a fry. 

“I think I know that.” Yuuri mutters, mainly to himself, as he bats away Phichit’s hand for the fiftieth time. He’s half tempted to just allow his friend to continue to steal his fries, but a stubborn part of himself butts at his more rational train of thought which forces his hand to slap away Phichit for the fifty-first time. Phichit whines playfully, but is sated once Seung-Gil casually pushes his own untouched fries to his boyfriend. He’s a fucking saint to Phichit.

“And don’t say anything, Phichit.” Yuuri interrupts his friend before the other male can open his mouth. “It’s all your fault I’m in this mess in the first place.” He sips on his strawberry milkshake for good measure while Phichit’s pretty eyes well up with fake crocodile tears. The puppy eyes no longer work on Yuuri, especially after all the years they’ve suffered through school together.

“But, Yuuri!” Phichit drags out the u’s in his name obnoxiously. Yuuri just rolls his eyes affectionately.

“You were the one who signed me up for this stupid thing in the first place. Actually,” he pauses, mind drifting back to the hazy date he had with Viktor, “what did you sign me up for anyway?” He still remembers Viktor’s flirtatious nature and husky like voice with propositions Yuuri had never dreamed anyone would ask  _ him  _ of all people. Diagonally from him, Seung-Gil snorts as he sips at his soda, but doesn’t actually comment. 

“Well…” 

“Phichit.” Yuuri does not like the way his friend instantly averts his eyes. He warns, “If you signed me up for some sugar daddy website…” 

“I didn’t!” Phichit splutters, suddenly an interesting pink in the face. Seung-Gil masks a laugh behind his napkin, but the glimmer of amusement in his eyes is enough indication that he’s in on whatever Phichit did.

Phichit’s shoulders sagged a little. “I just wanted what was best for you, Yuuri!” 

“So you think setting me up on some blind date, registering me for some sex favors website and giving me a two second notice is what’s ‘best for me’?” Yuuri demands. He arches an eyebrow in a motherly way that most of his friends joke about--mainly about him being a real mother hen--before giving Phichit his best disappointed face.

“Okay, okay, I get it! I’m sorry, mom! Just stop giving me that face!” Phichit wails as he buries the side of his face into Seung-Gil’s shoulder. Seung-Gil, who’s entirely too accustomed to the dramatic acts of his boyfriend, rolls his eyes in a fond manner and nonchalantly drapes an arm around Phichit’s trembling form. Yuuri would have cooed at the adorable antics of his friends if he wasn’t so jealous/angry. 

“In his defense though, Phichit didn’t sign you up for anything bad.” Seung-Gil helpfully adds. His word is trustworthy enough and Yuuri purses his lips in thought for a solid five seconds before sighing heavily. He feels like a mother with six unruly kids after a bad breakup with his husband. Either way, Seung-Gil is the sudden godsend, the most well behaved child of the century as he blinks innocently at Yuuri and tugs Phichit a little closer to his body.

“Ok, fine. I’m not mad at you anymore, Phichit.” Yuuri murmurs bitterly, but his insides feel warm and fuzzy when Phichit peeks out from his boyfriend’s shoulder and grins with such sunshine and vigor that he would have melted the ice caps if he was near any of them. That’s why, for the sake of earth, Yuuri and Seung-Gil team up and keep Phichit in warmer areas so that his sunny smiles don’t speed up global warming.

“Really?” At Yuuri’s nod, Phichit’s lips blossom into a hearty smile. It stretches his cheeks to outline his long eyelashes and winged eyeliner. “Thanks, babe!” Phichit plants a large smooch on Seung-Gil’s cheek, giggling cutely to himself when the Korean’s cheeks turn to a bubblegum hue and a silent huff escapes from his lips. Yuuri stares at his friends fondly before shaking his head as Phichit’s energy zips through the air like lightning.

“So what did you even sign me up for anyway?” Yuuri casually questions as he’s finishing up the rest of his fries. He methodically dips his fries into tart ketchup and slips three at a time into his awaiting mouth. After the fries are quickly taken care of, he washes all of it down with a few thirsty sips of his milkshake.

“Oh, just a rent-a-boyfriend program.” 

“Oh, okay.” Yuuri ignores the bewildered look from Phichit; he’s too lost in thought of mouthwatering pointed collarbones etched on unblemished skin and heavy accented voices trilling gently in his ear. Eventually, Phichit’s words settle beneath his skin like the veins running under and Yuuri whirls his head over to his friend with a flummoxed expression on his face. 

He inhales deeply, a sharp, quick breath trapped in his throat along with the contents of his mushy strawberry drink inside his mouth. Yuuri barely manages to hack out his suffocating lungs--in the most disgusting way, by the way--to croak out a mangled, “WHAT?!”

“Gross.” Seung-Gil oh so helpfully comments to the side. His eyebrows raise a little at Yuuri’s splutter of tangled words that rise up in an anxiety ridden wave. Phichit quietly watches the whole ordeal, eyebrows knit together in concern at the blue tint across his friend’s dying face.

“Phichit, you did  _ what _ ?!” Yuuri gasps out once more to clarify his recent tongue twisted words. Phichit sheepishly grins, sticking out his tongue in the famous “oops” expression he made whenever he accidentally caused distress on someone else (typically Yuuri).

“So, I might have  _ accidentally  _ signed you up to rent a boyfriend. And I might have  _ coincidentally  _ found someone and started chatting him up pretending to be you. And that someone may or may not be completely in love with you--err, me.” 

“Phichit.” Yuuri deadpans, his face a blank canvas. Phichit sweats a little nervously. 

“Yes?” 

“How do you  _ fucking  _ “accidentally” do all this  _ shit _ ?” Yuuri fumes. He’s too far gone in his fury to realize that now is not the best time to be raising his voice. He unconsciously snarls, a rabid side of him emerging from the shadows and past his sweating self doubt to growl at his  _ idiotic, dumb, stupid  _ “friend” who’s about to fucking  _ walk  _ home instead of carpooling with Yuuri. 

Seung-Gil whistles at hearing the innocent Yuuri Katsuki curse. He’s a little impressed, shown by the slight tilt of a lopsided smirk slowly growing on his face. Clinging to his side like a lifeline, Phichit sweats at how utterly enraged his best friend is. Gone is the timid, doubtful Yuuri. In his stead, a more confident, dangerous man lurks beneath the sloshing waters, hungry for blood and circling around a terrified Phichit like a hunting shark.

Yuuri nearly snaps his straw in half from how angrily he bites it. He slurps up the rest of his lukewarm beverage then abruptly stands up. Angrily slapping down a twenty dollar bill for his drink, Yuuri points his nose up, jingles his keys for emphasis, and struts out of the diner like he  _ owns  _ the place. The crowd around him whisper at his sudden retreat, at how a mundane male with nerdy glasses and awkwardly cut bangs transforms into a devilishly handsome beast as he sashays out into the sunset. 

Phichit fixes his boyfriend with a whimper and a pout. Seung-Gil shrugs, finishing up the rest of the soda and leaving his own money on the side. 

“Better buy him some katsudon later,” is all Seung-Gil helpfully hints before he too removes himself from the vicinity. Phichit is left alone with a crushing weight of guilt and a plate of soggy french fries.

“Fuck,” he whispers to no one but himself.

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


“Oh my god, what have I  _ done _ ?” Yuuri paces back and forth in yet another friend’s house, his eyebrows a permanent unibrow with how long they had been furrowed together. He halts in his steps for a few seconds, a new train of thought breaking his last one before his anxiety and self hatred yanks him back into place and he’s back at square one. To his side, sitting on the couch with an armful of slumbering kittens and an exhausted boyfriend, Leo de la Iglesia exasperatedly sighs.

“Yuuri, try to calm down.” He soothes. Yuuri doesn’t listen to him, prompting another sigh to rip out of his throat. Leo feels like he can finally emotionally reconnect with that one show about raising eight kids. He’s mentally exhausted from both work, school, and childbearing--the kittens counted as children honestly--so he’s a little less patient than he usually is. 

“Leo, what if he hates me?” Yuuri groans, finally crumbling down to his socked feet on the wooden floor. Leo heaves out another deep breath, his fingers finding solace in Guang Hong’s fluffy cinnamon colored locks. 

“Phichit’s not going to hate you.” Leo waves off Yuuri’s concerns; he immediately feels guilty for casually waving off his friend’s mental illnesses and grins reassuringly to the Japanese man. “He’s not that kind of guy and he’s been your best friend for what? Twelve years?” 

“Actually nearly fifteen years and six months once November ends.” Yuuri robotically corrects, as if that information was programmed into his brain. Leo smiles good naturedly.

“There you go. You two have been friends for a long time. If anything, Phichit probably feels guilty for doing all this without your permission. You know how he is.” Leo shifts his sleeping body a little, eliciting a quiet meow from one of the six kittens (probably Macchiato, that little rascal) at the sudden jolt of movement. Even Guang Hong mutters something incomprehensible; Leo is entirely too in love with his family to complain, however.

“Yeah, I guess…” Yuuri hesitantly agrees. Well, at least it was a start. Leo smiled amiably while patting another kitten on the head. Peaches purred underneath the attention given to her with a fiery motorboat engine emitting from her throat. 

“And it  _ was  _ mainly Phichit’s fault for using your information for that--what was it? Rent a sugar daddy thing or something?” Leo asked, puzzled. Yuuri’s mouth fell to a flat line. 

“No. It was a rent a boyfriend program. I didn’t even think those existed.” Yuuri admitted with a sparkle of  _ something  _ in his eyes. Leo briefly wondered about the strange, unknown gleam in his friend’s eye, but quickly switched his attention back to his lover who was sleepily blinking awake. Guang Hong rose his head up, brain full of cotton and pillow fluff as he gazed around with a confused pout on his face. Leo felt a surge of adoration puff up to his chest before he could stop it. 

“Good morning, cutie.” He teased lightly. Guang Hong blinked twice; his short eyelashes fanned across the apple of his cheeks as milky brown orbs surveyed the surroundings before landing on him. Once finding his lover, the Chinese male sleepily smiled in obvious content. Leo sighed like a sappy lovesick puppy. 

“Morning, Leo.” Guang Hong yawned akin to the slumbering kittens slowly waking up one by one. First Pepper, then Melange began stirring. As their fluffy tails swished across the area they just slept in, more kittens started to rise until all six of them mewled from the hunger pangs in their rounded bellies. Sassy Fran pawed at Leo first, mewing adorably with intelligent chocolate eyes that pleaded for the wet cat food the couple splurged on the spoiled kitties. 

“Oh.” Yuuri blinked in surprise as the whole family of kittens and one extra human mama simultaneously yawned until tears sprung into their eyes. Even the black haired male had to resist yawning with the rest of them; he swallowed down the beginnings of the yawn before he could create a chain reaction.

“Hey, Guang Hong.” Yuuri sent a slight wave to the shorter male. Guang Hong barely acknowledged him as he was still in a sleepy daze. When his brain caught up with him, the smaller male grinned cheerfully as he slowly began to wake up. 

“Yuuri!” He bounded over to the older male with a large, lazy grin and a dusting of innocent pink across round baby cheeks. Yuuri suppressed the urge to pinch his friend’s cheeks like an older person would a child, but he didn’t stop the warm smile from appearing on his lips.

“Did you have a long day at work?” He asked. The black haired male couldn’t help but pat Guang Hong’s head as he swept long bangs out of the younger male’s eyes. Since he mainly hung out with people a bit younger than him, Yuuri easily and quickly adopted the motherly hen role--it eventually became a necessity for him to ensure the comfort and safety of his fellow friends (few as they were but just as lovable).

“Yeah,” Guang Hong yawned again to emphasis his exhausted, wrecked state. He blinked blearily, rubbing the crust developing around his eyes. “It was a busy day at the pet shop.” Both he and Phichit worked at a nearby pet store--similar in regards to Petco or Petsmart but more privately owned--within walking distance of both their college and the apartments they stayed at. Because of its convenient location and decent pay, both Guang Hong and Phichit applied to the same job part time for extra cash. 

Leo worked as a car mechanic on the weekends and after his classes while Yuuri himself applied to be a barista in the back during the morning and a librarian in the afternoon shift. Even Seung-Gil worked at his uncle’s Korean restaurant down the street; being a college student was  _ hard  _ after all. Because of all of their clashing schedules, none of the close knit friends could ever really hang out other than on Friday nights. 

Friday nights meant complete chaos. Friday nights--more often than not--involved possible police calls, drunken dances, and alcohol for days. Granted, they never really met at bars often (what with the overpriced drinks and lack of gay bars around their area for some strange reason), but someone usually smuggled in beer bottles or any other ounces of alcoholic beverages that they could get their hands on. Because of their well known status, one which Yuuri regretted everyday of his life after seeing Phichit’s recent story on Snapchat and photos on Instagram, many places banned them from ever entering in the store again. 

So far, they were no longer allowed in: McDonalds, some fancy seafood restaurant, like three arcades, two parks, one dog park specifically, two bars, a few random convenience stores, a Target, Walmart, and Costco, and of course, a day care of all things (in Phichit’s defense, the playground there was too amazing to pass up, and of course some curious toddlers would want to know what that weird brown liquid in glass bottles was, of  _ course _ ).

Naturally, that meant they would find new places to wreck havoc in. And this time, Yuuri was the one to decide exactly where. If it meant voyaging past the boundaries of the comfortable small-ish town they resided in, then yes, the group was all too willing to get shit faced  _ somewhere  _ so long as they drink to forget. College had a weird way of creating alcoholics.

Yuuri blinked out of his reverie as a particularly loud squeal sounded across the room. He momentarily lost his train of thought in order to peek over to the side, where Leo was mercilessly tickling his boyfriend on top of the couch while four of the six kittens aided him in his attack. The other two meandered off, mainly in the quest and promise of food, leaving behind enough cats to successfully mew and paw at the struggling male.

“Leo, oh my god!” 

“Don’t say you’re dumb ever again then!” Leo growled playfully, sneaking in a sweet kiss upon Guang Hong’s cheek. Guang Hong giggled harder, his legs kicking out in futile attempt underneath Leo’s bigger body. 

“I won’t, I won’t!” Guang Hong yelped happily, his arms raised in mock surrender. Leo hummed. The taller male eventually yielded his tickle attack on his boyfriend and tucked his hands under his armpits with an innocent grin once Guang Hong skeptically eyed them. Yuuri could only watch in fond exasperation, a billowy proud wisp of nostalgia hitting him close to his heart. He was conflicted; should he be joyful for their union or envious? 

“I love you.” Leo murmured the sweet words against Guang Hong’s smiling lips. Guang Hong mockingly punched him on the shoulder, but his eyes twinkled with sheer happiness that it hurt Yuuri to stare at the loving couple for too long. His traitorous mind immediately honed in on a delicate image of Viktor, his long arms pulling Yuuri to his chest while a deep rumble of a chuckle reverberated into their hearts. It was cheesy, but also painful to know that Yuuri would never experience anything Leo and Guang Hong (or Phichit and Seung-Gil) had. 

“I love you too, you dork.” Guang Hong responded in kind. Once they separated, Leo rose from the couch first with a slight beat in his step. He no longer seemed fatigued at all. On the contrary, he rose with the strength of an angry army. The American skipped off to the kitchen--no doubt to fix Yuuri a cup of long overdue tea--while Guang Hong settled comfortably back against the cushions and giggled behind jittery fingers.

“Oh, sorry, Yuuri.” Guang Hong sheepishly said. He gestured towards the couch with a wavering hand. “You can sit down on the couch instead of the floor, you know.” Yuuri, for all his self-awareness, stared down in confusion at his current position and found himself just sitting hopelessly on the wooden floor. He smiled with an embarrassed hue of scarlet high across his cheekbones, but thanked his host and sat down in the adjacent armchair to the loveseat.

“So…” Guang Hong broke the silence between them first. He kicked his socked feet back and forth on the couch, the thumps of the seat the only sound between them. Yuuri hummed in acknowledgement, his eyes fixing on a small mustard stain like smudge on the far end of the red carpet Guang Hong’s parents sent to him from China. 

“Did something happen with you and Phichit?” Guang Hong tentatively asked. He remained kicking at the bottom of the couch while staring down at the same carpet. Yuuri blinked, bringing his eyes back up to Guang Hong’s much leaner form. 

“Eh?” 

“I dunno. It’s pretty obvious when Phichit’s down, so…” Guang Hong shrugged. “I figured something happened between you and him. Phichit didn’t even smile when he was cleaning out the hamster cages! And you know he loves to play with them a little while they’re out, but today, he didn’t even touch them! It was so weird.” 

“Phichit…” Yuuri mumbled, guilt tugging at his heart strings. He bit his lip. “I guess something did happen, yeah.” 

“Really? I figured as much… Uh, do you, um, want to talk about it?” Guang Hong licked at his dry lips, brown eyes seeking out Yuuri’s with a warm concern that fluttered down Yuuri’s stomach. Yuuri smiled at his friend gently, the hands in his lap messing around with his fingers in a nervous habit of his. In between his legs, his phone buzzed once to indicate a new message, but he couldn’t be bothered with it at the moment.

“I mean, I guess…” Yuuri tugged worriedly at his bottom lip. Even as close as he and Guang Hong and Leo was, he still felt a little uncomfortable relaying his troubles onto his friend’s shoulders. The only one he truly didn’t hesitate in letting go of his anxieties was Phichit, but seeing as they were both a little apprehensive with each other at the moment, Yuuri had no one else he could truly confide in. And he felt like he was using Guang Hong as leftovers, a second person to talk to after Phichit only because his best friend and he weren’t talking at the moment.

Before either could speak again, Leo arrived back in the living room with a pot of tea and three mugs dangerously dangling from his fingers. Guang Hong shook his head in exasperation, a mumble of how Leo would one day break all of his favorite mugs because his boyfriend was too lazy falling out of his lips before he could stop it. Leo pretended not to hear the loud grumble from his boyfriend and set down the boiling tea pot and cups in the middle of the coffee table.

“Good thing we still had some green tea left over.” Leo idly commented, humming under his breath as he settled down next to his boyfriend. Instantly, Guang Hong lay his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder, his nose nuzzling against the crook of the long haired male’s neck as he whined childishly for attention. 

Leo turned to Yuuri with bright eyes, his hand already stroking the side of Guang Hong’s cheek as easily as wiping after going to the toilet. “So, Guang Hong was texting me during his work--you really shouldn’t be doing that babe--and he was telling me how Phichit ignored his favorite hamster, Cocoa.” 

Yuuri rose a slender brow up. Phichit absolutely adored Cocoa and would not hesitate spamming Yuuri’s phone with endless pictures of the adorable hamster. Of course, because they weren’t exactly on friendly terms at the moment (and like two days passed), Phichit neglected in sending out any pictures of his favorite hamster to his favorite human. Yuuri’s heart throbbed painfully; he didn’t voice it aloud, however.

“What’s been going on between you two?” Leo struck straight to the point. He calmly waited a few more seconds for the tea to steep before moving slightly over to pour out the tea. Guang Hong’s head moved with his body, as if they were only one being, and he pecked Leo on the cheek for the steaming cup of green tea once the other handed him a cup. 

Yuuri thanked Leo before deeply breathing in the warm musk of the tea, heavy in his nostrils like sprayed cologne. He gingerly rested his lips against the rim of the cup to blow a few short breaths across the waves of the green ocean in a cup and basking in the heat the tea provided across his icy face. Yuuri eventually set the cup expertly on his lap using his hands to balance the mug out.

He sighed. “Well, just the rent a boyfriend program.” He recapped, but Leo rose his own bushy eyebrow and narrowed his eyes in speculation.

“If it was just that, I’m sure you would have gotten over it by now. Something else happened.” 

“Not really.” Yuuri shrugged helplessly. He sighed once more, his breath fanning over the smoke of the tea and causing it to drift across his mirage. “I just--” He debated on whether or not to share the last part before ultimately deciding to just trust his friends and spill the rest of the details.

“I dunno, I guess I feel dumb. It’s not really a big deal, but like Phichit’s been catfishing this one guy he found in the program, and--uh--this is really weird. I don’t know. That just made me, uh, I guess feel kind of disappointed? Mainly because the, um, guy at the cafe that I met was super into someone that I wasn’t.” 

“Ohhh.” Guang Hong bobbed his head in understanding. “So basically, you feel like the other guy was being tricked into this along with you, so you got mad at Phichit even more for dragging some unknown stranger into this.” 

“I guess?” It made sense in his mind, but Yuuri didn’t feel like it was really the main problem. Maybe it was his crushing depression? The anxiety that plagued his body once he realized that the attractive man across from him was not here because of  _ Yuuri  _ but because of Phichit pretending to be Yuuri. Then again, it wasn’t like anyone would want to actively be involved with Yuuri, and could he blame anyone? He wasn’t fun to be around like Phichit or intelligent like Seung-Gil. He wasn’t adorable like Guang Hong or dependent and loyal like Leo.

He was just awkward, anxious Yuuri. 

“Hey, now.” Leo frowned. “I recognize that look anywhere. Do I have to tickle you too, young man?” He teased, his unoccupied hand wiggling in promise. Guang Hong snorted at his dorky boyfriend and lightly pushed at his shoulder. 

“What he’s trying to say is that we don’t like it when you’re so negative about yourself, Yuuri. You’re a sweet, caring, wonderful person who’s way too caring for his own good. I know it’s hard to see that past your anxiety and self hatred, but you’re more than just your depression and anxiety, you know.” Guang Hong wisely said. He sipped at his tea for good measure to continue the wise old Chinese man act seen in those awful karate Hollywood movies and the guy even stroked his imaginary beard. 

“Yeah, I guess…” Yuuri awkwardly replied. He thumbed at the handle of the mug but eventually lifted up his head to give his friends a heartwarming smile. 

“Thanks, Leo. Thanks, Guang Hong.” He nodded to the both of them in turn, prompting a lazy grin from the former and a cheerful one from the latter. 

“It’s no problem, Yuuri. Just know that our house is welcome anytime you’re in a situation like this.” Leo promised. He picked up Melange and promptly dropped her into Yuuri’s empty lap. The kitten blinked owlishly up at him before mewling to be pet. Yuuri smiled softly. He loved animals just as much as his roommate, and even though a cat was entirely different from a dog, he still couldn’t help but think of tiny Vicchan back at his parent’s house. He stroked the cat along the spine of her back, eliciting a motorboat purr that rattled her lithe body. 

“Just make sure to make up with Phichit.” Guang Hong added. He playfully rolled his eyes and draped his body across his boyfriend’s shoulders in a dramatic manner, not unlike Phichit. “He keeps asking about how you’re doing and whether or not you’re eating your meals. You don’t have to be the mother hen anymore, Yuuri, because Phichit already took over your job.” Guang Hong joked. Yuuri grinned, shaking his head fondly at his roommate’s worry. 

“I’ll go back to the apartment tonight.” He firmly decided. His friends grinned encouragingly at him. “Thanks for letting me stay, by the way. I’m sorry you had to take care of me…” 

“No, no! It’s not any trouble! You helped me with the kittens, so that gave me more time to pay attention to this baby.” Leo ruffled his lover’s fluffy hair once more and laughed at the resulting threat from Guang Hong to break up with him. Guang Hong pouted, but his eyes glimmered to much like polished gems to resemble the angry facade he was attempting to be. 

Yuuri smiled. He drank down the last of the tea--and it was a bit more bitter on the bottom, but he always did prefer the natural tastes that reminded him so much of his hometown in Japan--with a lighter heart.

“So, I was thinking we could go to the bowling alley this Friday…” 

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


“Yuuri!” Phichit wailed as soon as the other male unlocked the door to their shared apartment and busted past the door after it didn’t budge with a light push. Yuuri flinched at the sudden calamity from inside the apartment as he stared up at Phichit with a deer in headlights gaze as he slipped off his shoes. 

“Wait, Phichit--!” Yuuri yelped, but it was already too late. Phichit burst out of the hallway connecting to the dining room and into the small space where the front door was as soon as he heard the key unlatching and Yuuri mumbling “I’m home!” in Japanese like he always did. Unluckily for Yuuri, Phichit decided to catch him off guard as soon as he tucked his body down to untie his shoelaces. That resulted in Phichit blindly crashing into Yuuri and bowling him over onto the ground. 

“I’m sorry, Yuuri!” Phichit continued to sob, digging his head against Yuuri’s chest beneath him. He snapped his head up to fix Yuuri with watery puppy eyes and a matching pout, but Yuuri couldn’t really see or hear past the throbbing in his head and the water building up in his eyes. Yuuri groaned, slumping back down onto the sweet, cold embraces of death on the floor as his roommate wailed even harder at successfully knocking out and “killing” his best friend after the reenactment of a bullfight happened near the front door.

“It’s fine, Phichit.” Yuuri reassured his roommate as he was abruptly seated down on the couch. Phichit fled on a quest to find the first aid kit, leaving Yuuri to sigh at the migraine slowly constructing in his head and the prickle of dry heat in his throat.

Phichit whimpered softly as he bandaged up Yuuri’s head (“I don’t need those, Phichit! Jesus Christ, I’m hurt not  _ dying _ !”) as neatly as possible while muttering a million apologies underneath his breath. Yuuri sighed, feeling drained from having to deal with his roommate while a migraine drummed uncomfortably at his brain but also feeling a surge of affection for Phichit. 

“You’re forgiven, dummy.” Yuuri sought out Phichit’s hands with his own and used his thumbs to comfortingly rub the top of the other’s hands. “If anything, I’m sor--” 

“Don’t!” Phichit sharply warned. He strictly regarded Yuuri with a slight frown. “None of this is your fault, Yuu! It’s all mine because I did all of this without you knowing and caused you a lot of anxiety. It’s all my fault and I’ve been reflecting on my actions these past few days.” 

“Phichit…” Yuuri said with a touched voice. Phichit sheepishly grinned, leaning forward to plant a soft kiss on Yuuri’s brow.

“I’m sorry for all of this, Yuuri. I promise from now on, I’ll be a better wingman and the best friend you’ll ever have!” He vowed with a fiery vengeance, dark eyes sparkling at his promise. Yuuri chortled lightly before pressing his forehead against Phichit’s. The bond between them would never fade, he hoped.

“Okay, I’ll hold you to that.” He teased, and laughed at Phichit’s mock cry of disbelief.

“Um, also, is there something burning?” 

“MY MUFFINS!” Phichit screeched with the volume of a fangirl at a concert. He ripped his hands out of Yuuri’s, sprung up off the couch, and sprinted to the kitchen like the devil was on his heels. Yuuri snorted out laughter, a bubbly feeling of relief washing over his tired form as he slumped back down onto the couch. From the living room, he could hear Phichit scream again about how “bad” the muffins were behaving before yelling at Yuuri that everything was fine and that  _ no, the apartment hasn’t been burned down yet and won’t ever if he has a say in it _ . 

Yuuri shook his head. He blinked, suddenly remembering how his phone buzzed while he was over at Leo’s and Guang Hong’s humble abode before clumsily snatching his phone out of his pocket. Quickly unlocking the phone after checking the unknown number, Yuuri frowned as he clicked on his new message and squinted skeptically at the message written on the phone. If this was another clickbait message about winning $10000 dollars, Yuuri would scream--

_ Oh.  _ Yuuri reread the message again. And again. And again.  _ Ohhhh. _

 

**< <Anonymous>> Saturday, 16 Sept 2023, 1:39pm: **

 

**hey yuuri!!!!! This is Viktor from the rent a boyfriend program <3 would you be willing to meet tmrw at 1 in front of the cafe we first met? **

 

Yuuri screams so loud, he could have been mistaken for a victim of a cruel, gruesome murder.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. "lovely" marigolds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bowling with friends is always fun, especially when you're drunk off your ass, the manager is considering kicking you out, the place looks old enough that your deceased great ancestors have been in the exact same hangout, and you accidentally call your not boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a) idk what im doing this is all for fun pls dont like point out plot holes and stuff like that like this is fiction yall
> 
> b) there is enough second hand embarrassment for me to choke myself to death w/ it and possible out of character characterizations my bad
> 
> c) unbeta'd im so sorry
> 
> 4) yuuri is yet again Relatable(TM)

 

 

 

It’s in a dungy bowling alley with more rust and dust than Yuuri’s future coffin that Yuuri finally receives a long awaited call from his family members (they had missed their family call last week). He can barely hear them over the sound of Guang Hong busting Phichit’s ass over a “friendly” competition of bowling, but Yuuri is still relieved to hear the familiar drag of his sister’s low voice, the upbeat cheer of his mother’s, and the deep, kind swell of his father’s.

“Hello, Yuuri?” His mother, sweet like the peonies she always smells of, excitedly chirps as a greeting. She smiles widely at him, chipmunk cheeks stretching with her as she waves cutely with her fingers. Besides her in the tiny Skype screen displaying on Yuuri’s shitty smartphone, the pixelated version of his father chuckles heartily, eyes drawn in a blank line as his lazy way of greeting. Mari waves with the toxic cigarette stick wedged between her pointer and middle finger, her own version of an affectionate grin painting her face lightly.

“Can you hear us, nerd?” Mari questions, flicking off excess ash from her cigarette. Yuuri nearly rolls his eyes at his sister’s endearing nickname--almost.

“Yeah, I can hear you guys. What about me?”

“Oh, Yuuri!” His mom ignores his remark and excitedly squeals. “We’re so excited to see you again this Christmas!” She gleefully yelps. To her side, Toshiya nods in agreement with his wife and even props up Vicchan higher in his hold.

“Ah, Vicchan!” Yuuri exclaims as he all but presses the phone closer to his nose in order to peer at his beloved animal companion. Mari chortles at seeing a huge close up of her brother’s enthusiastic grin while the parents laugh joyfully at their son.

“He’s grown a lot since you last left, Yuuri.” Hiroko explains with a gesture towards her right where Vicchan is comfortably held up by Toshiya. Yuuri guffaws. His eyes shine with an unadulterated glee that stands out in the swirl of black irises. His family regards him with nothing short of love and fondness, and the familiar sense of longing to see Yuuri tugs harder at their heartstrings. Especially for Yuuri, who’s used to familiarity and the small town of Hasetsu; he misses the salty tang of ocean and the tinge of humidity that flavors the breeze. He misses his family and his dog and being able to stay in his comfort zone, in a bubble of security in his old room.

Christmas can not come fast enough.

“Speaking of growing... “ Mari pipes up, effectively breaking the quiet content the family experiences, “have you finally found someone to date, little bro?” Her casual question spikes a renewed vigor within his mother especially while his father’s smile grows a tad more sly. Yuuri flushes in shame; he doesn’t want to disappoint them and mainly himself, but he doesn’t want to really lie about his current situation.

“It’s no pressure, son.” Toshiya reassures as he hefts Vicchan a little higher. Vicchan yips in agreement, his tiny tongue sticking out in a cute manner. “Whenever you’re ready to date, we’ll be supportive.”

“Your father’s right, Yuuri!” Hiroko adds as she fixes Yuuri with a delightful grin. “We’ll support you with whoever you want to be with!”

“And even if you never find someone, it’s fine too.” Mari shrugs nonchalantly. She had already openly admitted to being ace/aro to the family which prompted their parents to learn more about the different sexualities and genders there out there. Yuuri was always grateful for his understanding parents even though sexuality was no longer a huge deal as much anymore.

“Thanks.” Yuuri utters, his own eyes becoming teary. He blames the shots of tequila Phichit forced into his hands beforehand. Speak of the devil…

“YUURI! STOP TALKING TO YOUR BOYFRIEND AND COME OVER HERE!”

...and he shall appear.

Phichit popped up from behind Yuuri’s shoulder, his eyes barely peeking over the other’s taller height. Pouting, the Thai male peered over to the phone until he caught the Katsuki family waving back at him when they noticed their son’s best friend. Instantly, a large upturned grin on Phichit’s face replaced his previous pout as he flashed the lovely family a peace sign and winked at them.

“HI, KATSUKIS!” He hollers and giggles straight afterwards due to the alcohol finally polluting his brain. Yuuri does roll his eyes this time, but he swivels the phone a little closer to his insufferable best friend so both of their faces can be seen in the tiny recording box. He’s half tempted to dig out an old pair of earphones--that barely worked after Yuuri accidentally dropped them in a puddle after a long run in the rain--so that they can hear his family better, but he stops himself when he remembers how inebriated Phichit is at the moment. And intoxicated Phichit meant a recklessly loud and very very open Phichit.

“Hi, Phichit!” His family answers in varying degrees of warm enthusiasm. Phichit just grins harder.

“I’VE ALWAYS LOVED YOU GUYS! YOU’RE ALWAYS SUPPORTIVE AND HONESTLY A LOT MORE SUPPORTIVE THAN MY PARENTS SOMETIMES TOO!” Phichit practically screams into Yuuri’s ear. Yuuri flinches, sweating nervously when he finally notices the manager down near the entrance, a disapproving frown on their face as they eye Yuuri’s pack of wild friends warily.

“Aww, we love you too, Chula-hoop.” Mari says between a puff of her smoke.

“You’re always welcome to our inn, Phichit! Bring your lovely boyfriend with you too!” Hiroko smiled that wonderful motherly one that always warmed Yuuri’s heart.

And now, Phichit is actually crying. Like lowkey sobbing into Yuuri’s sweater while snot dribbled down his nose. Yuuri grimaces as the wetness seeps under his shirt and smears onto his skin. He barely holds back a nose wrinkle when Phichit blows into the large sleeve of his sweater, but he’s also tipsy enough not to care. Hiroko cooes at the adorable interactions between the close roommates while Toshiya chortles lowly at how disgruntled his son appeared.

“OH YEAH, I FORGOT! DID YUURI TELL YOU?”

“Wait, Phichit, no--”

“HE HAS A BOYFRIEND!” Phichit sings while performing a ridiculous dance with his fingers. He jabs a thumb to his chest. “AND I HELPED HIM!”

“Oh my,” Hiroko clutches her chest with a hand, sudden excitement coursing in her veins and filling up her face. “Yuuri, you should have told me!”

“Bring him here for Christmas!” Toshiya almost demands. Vicchan barks again, the traitor. Mari just raises a thin eyebrow at how Yuuri actually managed to find someone (not because there was anything wrong with him but Yuuri was so soft spoken and hard shelled that he barely knew anyone past his small group of friends, and as far as Mari knew, they were all dating each other).

“Wait, dad, mom--!” Yuuri half heartedly glares at a preening Phichit. “This is all your fault, Phichit! Viktor is _not_ my boyfriend!”

“His name is Viktor?” His mom catches and looks about a second away from booking a flight to Detroit in order to interrogate him further on who exactly this “Viktor” was. Yuuri grimaces, shaking his head in denial but his mother isn’t even staring at him anymore. She’s chatting amiably with his father and ignoring all the protests that garble out like puke from Yuuri’s mouth.

“VIKTOR IS REALLY HOT AND RUSSIAN! HE ALSO WENT ON A DATE WITH YUURI TWICE!” Phichit seriously informs while screaming his head off like an insane psychopath. He puts up two fingers to indicate how many dates Yuuri had apparently gone on with Viktor--they were _not_ dates, Yuuri fervently thought--as his eyebrows knit together.

“Or maybe three because tonight Viktor’s going to see Yuuri again.”

“Oh my god.” Yuuri facepalms with his unoccupied hand. “Phichit, you are so going to get it…”

“That’s wonderful news, Yuuri!” His mother looks on the verge of crying, and Yuuri winces at how utterly disappointed they really will be when they discover that no, Viktor is _not_ coming to Japan because Yuuri already broke off the whole rent-a-boyfriend arrangement he had with the Russian male. Well, Viktor was apparently intrigued with Yuuri because he insisted on the two meeting again for coffee the next day, but it wasn’t like Viktor _liked_ him…. Right?

“For the last time, I’m not dating--”

“Oh! Sorry, it’s hard to hear, dear!” Hiroko flutters her hands in joy. “We’ll call you later, okay? Say ‘hi’ to your boyfriend for me!”

“Mom--” The line cuts off. Yuuri’s shoulders slump as he feels a migraine already threatening to pound his head into bits. Beside him, Phichit’s warmth lingers for the other male already wandered off to bother his boyfriend. Yuuri sighs, rubbing his temples in exasperation at his drunk roommate who was currently plastered all over Seung-Gil like an extra coat for the winter. Seung-Gil is entirely too used to his boyfriend’s clingy tendencies for he continues with his game of pool against Leo like a pro.

“Yuuri!” Guang Hong cheers as he raises another shot of tequila--that was quickly being drunk at an alarming rate--as greeting to Yuuri. Yuuri immediately regrets returning so soon. Maybe he could have pretended to be still talking to his family. It’s not like anyone other than Phichit would interrupt his private phone session with his family. He could have milked up a little more time before chaos surely ensued.

“Here! Drink, drink!” Guang Hong’s face is entirely too pink--bordering red--to be safe, but Yuuri’s past rational thought as he takes the offered shot glass from his friend.

“ _Ganbei!_ ”

“ _Kanpai_ …” Yuuri mutters his own version of “cheers” as he downs the shot as rapidly as he can. The spike of adrenaline flutters in his veins, invigorated, as his throat burns with the fiery liquid. His brain is a little less jumbled and a little more foggy so he pops open another--and the last--tequila bottle Leo smuggled in that his uncle bought for him for his last birthday. Yuuri tips down the shot of liquid fire as he slumps down into the booth next to the bowling lanes.

Forgotten cold buffalo wings and cheesy pretzel bites that taste stale after five minutes in fresh air waft into Yuuri’s nose as he digs his head into the cool table. The buzz of the alcohol is slowly setting in as Guang Hong helps refill Yuuri’s shot glass, and it’s only polite to drink when offered, right--it’s only common courtesy to drink all of the tequila to show his gratitude to Leo for bringing such fine alcohol, right? So, with that in mind, Yuuri downs three, four, five more shot glasses until his eyesight is blurry even with his glasses on.

Guang Hong has long passed out, curled up in the plush cushion of the dirty booth as he snores away. Yuuri is close to sleeping as well; he’s kept up by the same recurring thought of thick Russian accents, snowflakes for eyelashes, and soft pink lips that curled into beautiful smiles like a vivid art piece. Yuuri thinks of Viktor even as his eyes dart back and forth at a speed Sonic the Hedgehog would be jealous of. He stares at Phichit’s back, at Seung-Gil’s and Leo’s bodies as they angle their arms in odd degrees to beat each other at the intense game of pool they are currently playing.

They’re too engrossed in their play to obviously notice the two missing members of their group. Fortunately for them, Yuuri is not to the level of intoxication that he would start stripping and dancing on the tables with only boxers and ugly gray socks on. It also helps that the air conditioning is on--after someone’s constant insistence of it being too hot; not naming any names but it’s _Thai_ \--so Yuuri is not tempted to begin a confident striptease in the middle of a bowling alley with _children_.

Yuuri’s eyes flicker over to something gray. Someone is wearing a gray pleated skirt. Someone else holds a gray bowling ball. Another person laughs, gray braces glinting in the sharp light hung up above the check-in counter. Everywhere there’s gray, gray, gray. Yuuri already knows what gray means to him, and without even thinking, he’s flipping his phone out and immediately seeking out a familiar number he’s memorized from pure nerves.

He presses on “Hot Thick Russian Daddy”, that Phichit had changed while Yuuri was in the bathroom, without really meaning to. If he was any less drunk, Yuuri would have hesitated for about half an hour before finally working up the courage to return to his homepage and shut off his phone. However, Yuuri is not sober at the moment. Yuuri is _not_ Yuuri either.

 _“Hello? Yuuri?”_ Viktor sounds confused at being called at about eleven pm, though the clarity of his voice indicates that he was still awake during this time. Yuuri files that little bit of information away, even though he knows he will most likely forget it in the morning, and grunts like a pig in the phone.

 _“Uh… Yuuri?_ ” Viktor’s voice wavers in concern. “ _Hello? Are you still there?_ ”

“Vicchan!” Yuuri swoons as he hears Viktor’s beautiful voice filter in through the speaker of his phone. Despite being a little staticy, the phone still manages to push out Viktor’s voice in a soft, seductive way. The raven haired male hums, drunkenly giggling as he hears VIktor mutter something incomprehensible--probably in Russian--under his breath.

“ _Are you drunk right now, Yuuri_?” The way he says Yuuri’s name curls around Yuuri’s ear before soaring down through his body. He feels a familiar spark of heat churning in his stomach and leaking out towards his twitching member. He doesn’t speak, but a few heavy pants are enough to cause a very huge misunderstanding.

“Mmm,” Yuuri groans, “‘m a little tipsy.” He admits. Viktor sharply spits out another Russian word, most likely a curse word.

 _“Are you alone right now, love? Do you need assistance?”_ Yuuri grins goofily.

“Yeah! I need you to help me up ‘cause I’ve fallen for you!” Viktor’s breath hitches this time. He’s obviously speechless, and even in the muddled swamp of his mind, Yuuri can tell that what he said shocked Viktor to the point of silence, and a part of him is proud of that fact. He’s surprised Viktor. He’s elicited a response other than pity and disgust from the other.

“ _Yuuri…”_

“That’s my name!” He manages through a small, cute hiccup. “Your accent is so beautiful, you know that? I love the way you say my name.” His voice borders husky seduction as he nuzzles the phone as if Viktor is physically with him.

“ _Hmm? I didn’t know that._ ” This time, Viktor is purring, an amused lilt of his tone that makes Yuuri’s legs turn to jelly. Yuuri’s heart flutters as he agrees with a pleased hum. But apparently the smashed Yuuri is not done blabbering either.

“Yeah and you’re so beautiful! Like a, like a--” he pauses, trying in a vain attempt to think through the thick muddy waters of his fried brain, “I dunno… Something pretty.”

 _“Something pretty?”_ Viktor repeats in an entirely too entertained voice. He shifts over, sheets rustling as he moves. Yuuri imagines laying down next to the attractive male, to curl up in the heat of Viktor’s love and absentmindedly press worshipping kisses all over Viktor’s body. He’s a fool, a follower long blinded behind the beauty of a god.

“Mhm. Something really pretty. Like, uh, a, uh kitty!” Viktor laughs at that. His bell like laughter fills Yuuri with something akin to love, he thinks, but he doesn’t dwell too much on it as the hazy beginnings of sleep threaten to take over his mind.

“‘M sleep now…” Yuuri mutters, his voice muffled by his cheek pressing against the table.

_“Wait, Yuuri! Do you have anyone that can drive you home?”_

“Hmm? Oh, uh I think? I dunno... ‘m sleepy.”

“ _Where are you now, Yuuri?”_

“Bowling…” Yuuri manages through drool gluing his lips shut. He slurps it back up noisily before coughing lightly. With a grimace, Yuuri shifts over so that he’s curled up in a tight ball on the thin booth seat as well. He smells a bit of mustard, ketchup, and puke all mingled up underneath the booth and settles a lazy eye on wads of chewed up gum in varying colors stuck on the table. He wrinkles a nose but doesn’t say much.

 _“I’m coming to pick you up, okay, Yuuri?”_ Viktor’s voice is a lullaby: soft and melodious in Yuuri’s ear. Yuuri mutters a confirmation, which is enough for the other male before Viktor hangs up on him and all that’s left is a really cold emptiness that rattles his bones. Yuuri shifts uncomfortably, but no matter what, he’s filled with discomfort and slight pain. Without Viktor, he feels the same tell tale signs of a blizzard in his chest.

The last thing he thinks of before he dozes off is the “date” he was at with Viktor.

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


It’s only 12:30 in the afternoon, yet Yuuri finds himself pacing a street away from the cafe in a nearby park. He probably looks like a strange idiot, but Yuuri is too anxious about meeting up with handsome Viktor to think of what he appears like at the moment. Yuuri bites his thumb nail, nibbling at the side like he’s used to before releasing a string of saliva when he stops biting to mumble another small pep talk to himself. Obviously, it works as well as it shows.

Yuuri is too absorbed in his thinking of what to say during the so called “date” that he doesn’t notice until last minute that he’s bumped into someone else. He stumbles forward, staring in wide eyed shock as a blur of white falls down onto the grassy patch next to the concrete. Yuuri is partially glad that the other managed to land onto grass instead of the thick concrete, but his grateful attitude sours when the young teenager sneers at him and throws him a harsh glare.

Yuuri’s no good at all with teenagers--especially ones with emo fringes and an angsty backstory like this edgy looking teenager most likely has--and even worse when he’s alone, so his brain seeps into overdrive as he straightens up and sweats nervously. He’s pinned under the look of pure anger emitting from the smaller person, and even as tiny and thin the other is, Yuuri is positively sure he could get his ass handed by the stranger.

“Watch where you’re going, pig!” The other spits out, hackles raised like a spooked cat. They look about five seconds from tearing Yuuri limb to limb, and Yuuri can only shake a little and hope he hasn’t peed his pants to add to his humiliating bucket list. Luckily, the other shoots him another warning glare before furiously storming off in the opposite direction.

Unfortunately, Yuuri is only given a minute of relief before he bumps into yet _another_ person. Of course, because the world absolutely abhors Yuuri, it has to be fucking Viktor. Of course. Why not add in Yuuri’s clumsiness and have him slip on the grass, land on his face, and give himself a hefty nosebleed from bruising his nose.

He really shouldn’t be jinxing himself, he thinks as Viktor gasps and kneels down before him. It doesn’t help that Viktor’s crotch is about eye level now and the amount of dirty thoughts that flit through Yuuri’s mind at that very point in time is enough to make a horny teenager blush. Yuuri splutters, coughs out a little blood close enough to splash on Viktor’s fancy Oxford shoes, and nearly passes out from how utterly mortified he is.

Viktor doesn’t notice his inner turmoil (or at least pretends not to notice) as he frets over Yuuri and yanks him up to his feet. Yuuri is worse than Bambi on ice, he curses himself as he stumbles on unsteady legs and barrels right into Viktor’s body. Fortunately, Viktor catches him before he can elegantly face plant onto the concrete and fuck up his eye this time.

“Are you okay, Yuuri?” Viktor asks as he carefully dabs at Yuuri’s bruised nose. His white handkerchief stains a blossoming pink, and Yuuri is buffeted with how utterly horrified he is at his current predicament. Not only had he nearly broke his nose thirty minutes before his “date” but he also slipped in front of a possible growing crush _twice_ and nearly impaled his glasses onto his eyes the second time he slipped.

“Uhhh…” Yuuri’s response is garbled with nerves, which Viktor takes as “brain damage from the fall”.

“Oh dear, you must be in pain.” Viktor frets as he presses his handkerchief to Yuuri’s nose and guides the other’s hand to the small cloth in order to keep blood from dripping down Yuuri’s dumb face.

“I’m fine!” Yuuri promises through a stuffy nose which sounds more like “ahm fuh-eene”. Yuuri flushes in shame for about the millionth time before the bleeding stops and he no longer has to hold up a bloodied cloth up his nose like an idiot. He timidly walks over to one of those bird bath things that sprays out water with a simple twist of a knob before quickly running the water over the dirtied handkerchief while tugging at his lip all the while, his face burning with an intensity that would match Phichit’s sunny smiles.

“Yuuri! I got you some water!” Viktor grins, proud as he seeks out Yuuri like it’s his mission. Yuuri shyly nods as he accepts the water bottle and gulps down about a quarter of it before stopping when he feels woozy. And wow, he’s looking more and more like a dumb buffoon in front of his crush ‘cause he just got the worst brain freeze from that stunt.

Viktor chuckles, thumbing away a stray bead of water on the corner of Yuuri’s lip. Yuuri freezes up. He blinks rapidly, stares at Viktor like he just sprouted a pair of wings before hiding his face away with an all too pleased smile. He misses the soft upturn of Viktor’s lips as he shyly tucks a strand of hair behind his ear.

“I’m sorry. I’m, um, a real klutz.” He chuckles awkwardly; it sounds forced even in his own ears. His fingers tremble a little as he clutches onto the water bottle a little tighter lest it slip out of his grasp and land onto the ground. God, that would be embarrassing.

“Yuuri.” Viktor call is akin to a siren’s lullaby. The raven haired male’s head snaps up embarrassingly fast as he searches the other with his deep brown eyes. Viktor grins, a lopsided smile that weaves down the Japanese man’s arms like coiled snakes, that pop up goosebumped flesh and causes a wave of warmth to flush over his delicate cheeks.

“Are you ready to go? My apartment is just around the corner. Luckily, I found you here so that saves me the trouble of going back to the cafe.” He winks secretly, chuckling all too casually while Yuuri can only gape at how utterly ethereal the other male is. His mouth is closed, luckily, and Yuuri nods at Viktor’s honest gaze as a nonverbal answer. Viktor hums; he jerks his head to the side for the shorter male to follow, and follow Yuuri does. Yuuri is always confident in following others as a go-with-the-flow type of guy instead of leading.

He’s still hushed from the earlier experience but the horror of the scenario slowly slips from his fingertips and dances off with the wind like a secret rendezvous. The black haired male flinches, his palm tingling with the sudden heat that engulfs it. Viktor smiles all too innocently at him, the perfect picture of clueless like he’s _not_ softly gripping Yuuri’s hand _and_ heart.

“I don’t want you to get lost, _little mouse_.” Yuuri jerks his head in a shaky nod. He continues to trail after Viktor, hands clenched and the same red hue painted on his face for the rest of the duration back.

By the time the duo reaches Viktor’s apartment, Yuuri is flushed all the way down to his collarbones. Viktor’s apartment is more like a luxury suite with how spacious and lavish the place appears. A few potted plants litter the space while triangle shaped windows carve the wall (though it’s another tiny wall that slants to the ceiling to accommodate the windows). A few elaborate paintings decorate the creamy fleur de lys patterned walls, more plants hang to the side in its own fancy black stand, and a few pieces of fluffy, tasteful rugs surround certain parts of the wooden floored living and dining room.

“Whoa…” Yuuri mouths as he clutches onto his sweater in anxiety. He’s only seen the living and dining room, but it’s expensively furnished enough to make Yuuri feel like an outcast. He’s not used to French designs or European crafted furniture and furs and paintings and sculptures that decorate the other male’s flat like a mini art museum. No, Yuuri is more attuned to cozy tight spaces, a few cheesy knick knacks, and the few family/friend pictures that hang embarrassingly high up on walls and perched on nightstands.

Yes, Viktor’s house is glamorously gorgeous, but it’s cold, unfeeling. There’s a materialistic emptiness to it, even as aesthetically pleasing as it is. Yuuri knows Viktor’s a full Russian--born and raised in St. Petersburg--but does the flat have to be _this_ cold?

“Coffee?” Viktor’s voice bounces off the sharp inclines of the walls. It’s a white walled room that corners Yuuri, causes a rush of anxiety and depression to climb up to his throat at an alarming speed. He’s stuck between kneeling on the plush fur carpet or awkwardly hovering around the couch like a stalker.

“Uh, no, I’m fine.” He blinks. “Thanks.” He adds as a polite afterthought. _I’m not staying long_ , is the unsaid thought that threatens to fall clumsily out of his blabbermouth.

“Are you sure? I have some excellent beans straight from Brazil.” Yuuri blinks. Was that supposed to entice him to stay longer? Maybe make him swoon at how “rich” that sounds? Because Yuuri knows literally next to nothing about coffee--you could lie, say the coffee was a new exotic breed from fucking _Antarctica_ , feed him McDonald’s dark sewer water, and Yuuri would _still believe it was from Antarctica._ He digresses; coffee is not appealing to his tastes, only for a quick wake up call for his random 3 am fix while he’s writing a research paper on why ostriches find humans sexually attractive or something.

“No, I’m fine, thanks.” He replies through near grit teeth. He just wants to explain how this is all some misunderstanding, awkwardly shuffle his feet, then fetch his shoes and high tail it out of there. He likes the thought of moving back to Japan, changing his name to Carlos Alfredo Pepe Fernandez, and living his peaceful life on like the rabbit island or somewhere just as nice. He also likes the thought of never having to experience this weird emotional trip with another attractive stranger ever again, so his initial idea is a lot more tempting.

Before he can successfully and promptly fling himself out the ten floor window and _end_ himself, Viktor returns with two cups of coffee on tiny flowered platters on a tray and a fancy bowl of sugar cubes. There’s a small pitcher of cream as well, and wow, Yuuri would have been impressed off his pants if this was you know, _an actual date_.

“Just in case you change your mind.” Viktor comments, tapping at the cup with a silver spoon that looks like it cost more than Yuuri’s tuition. He quirks an eyebrow at Yuuri, who quickly sits down in the faded gray couch. He creates as much distance between him and Viktor since there’s only one couch ( _unfortunate_ , his sarcastic side drolls).

 _I won’t though,_ he thinks. _I just want to tell you this is all some sort of misunderstanding and leave._ Instead, he grins weakly at Viktor and offers his thanks that falls stale out of his mouth. He’s long overstayed his welcome, and Yuuri is more than happy to excuse himself out of Viktor’s rich person life to return back to drinking 5-hour energys in $3 7-Eleven coffee with fake sugar and extra vanilla creamer.

“So,” Viktor starts as he finishes mixing his coffee (two sugar cubes and a bit of milk to turn the coffee into a light gingerbread brown, Yuuri files away in his mind) with the same damned spoon. Yuuri watches, completely fixated on how Viktor brings the spoon up to his lips and chases the droplet of bitter coffee with a slick tongue. The whole time, his blue, blue eyes bore into Yuuri’s face, an offering present in his eyes. Yuuri gulps. Suddenly, the coffee looks much more appealing.

“Since your friend was the one to create your account for you, I’m assuming most of it was made up?” Viktor cuts straight to business, the playful twinkle in his eyes no longer existing in crystal eyes--like a bluebird’s wings during flight. Yuuri fiddles with his fingers, eyes filled with guilt as he stares down at the couch.

“I see,” Viktor sighs. He sounds almost disappointed, and the thought of ever causing a creature as beautiful as Viktor dissatisfaction tastes like copper and rusted iron on his tongue. Yuuri scrunches his eyebrows, quickly whipping his head up as his top teeth tugs at his lip.

“The information is right though! Just, um…” Yuuri falters in the sudden bout of confidence that tears into paper shreds underneath him. He’s falling faster than Alice into the black hole, but he pushes through with the bare light he can make out in his translucent eyes.

“Yes?” Viktor presses softly.

“Uh…” Yuuri switches his gaze over to the pot of snowy lilies behind Viktor’s head. “The, uh, person you talked to wasn’t exactly me…” His voice grows timid as he curls within himself in order to hide away from the surveying eyes of his companion. Yuuri has always despised attention upon himself; when he felt like a spotlight was on him, he would instantly freeze up, become tongue tied beyond belief, and begin to blackout. There was no spotlight, no audience to watch his every movement and judge him based on them, but Viktor may as well have been a large crowd.

“Your friend?” Viktor asks. His tone is neutral and clear, which only seems to feed onto the anxiety thrumming inside of Yuuri. He swallows past a mouthful of goop stuck in his throat but attains a simple nod of his head. Viktor sits back, an expression of interest worn all over his face as he gazes at the shy, clammy Yuuri.

“Then…” Viktor mutters with a voice laden with hot promise, “Perhaps we should get to know each other more.” Yuuri’s adam’s apple bobs up and down as he gulps around a particularly large glob of antsy goo. The raven haired male barely stares up past his glasses before Viktor prowled over to Yuuri, like a predator cornering his prey. Even then, Yuuri’s heart flies to his throat as he presses his back as much as possible against the arm of the couch.

“V-Viktor!” _He’s too close! Way too close!_ The brown eyed male internally screams. He’s embroiled in the blossoming light blue of the windows of Viktor’s soul, like a blue ribbon entangling Yuuri into the heady scent of cinnamon and the stretch of the other man’s exposed snowy throat as Viktor invades Yuuri’s personal space. He’s aware of how close-- _intimately near--_ they are, of how every breath that raises Yuuri’s belly up, Viktor’s body fleetingly touches. Their lips are a scant few inches away and if Yuuri so desired, he could press up a little closer, entwine their beating heart strings together into a messy, unmanageable knot, and act on his desires/daydreams to kiss plush, warm lips.

The shorter male blinks once, twice. Then, he pushes Viktor away, scrambles off of the couch to a guarded standing position closer to the exit, and pants heavily like he sprinted two miles under five minutes.

“Yuuri?” Viktor cocks his head curiously to one side. He’s too endearing for his own good, and Yuuri realizes all too late that this must be part of Viktor’s scheme: to trap Yuuri in the apartment--for what reason, Yuuri doesn’t want to know. The Russian could be an experienced axe murderer for all Yuuri knows, but he supposes that being a part of a rent-a-boyfriend program entails that background checks and past reviews are a necessity to ensure hot Russian serial killers can not participate.

“Uh, y-you were too close.” Yuuri stutters. He’s already shuffling his feet together in a guilty, awkward way. Viktor smiles amiably, however, and Yuuri feels a twinge of hope soar into his exhausted lungs. Honestly, the other male was too much for Yuuri sometimes (read: all the time).

“I suppose I should stop teasing you then?” Viktor rhetorically asks in bemusement. Yuuri nods his head all too eagerly anyway before he’s shuffling his socked feet back towards the couch and stiffly sitting down adjacent to Viktor. In response, Viktor politely scoots a little farther away and graces Yuuri with another grin, albeit more strained and professional.

“Back to business,” Viktor concedes as he ruffles into a drawer in the large coffee table to retrieve contract papers, “there are certain restrictions and rules that you, as the employer, must abide by and other additional things I will not do.” He flips through the thin pages with quick precision one gains as a talent after having done it multiple times. It’s a wonder Viktor doesn’t receive a papercut, Yuuri thinks as he watches the long, slim fingers flip through the guidelines of the contract.

“We will have to set a time, and depending on how long you want to date me (“Forever, if I could,” Yuuri mumbles under his breath to himself and ignores the inquisitive stare from Viktor), a price as well.”

“Um…” Yuuri scratches his cheek awkwardly. How was he going to word this in a way that would not ignite a pathetic sympathy and sad embarrassment from either parties? He couldn’t just be like, “ _oh hey, buddy, pal, I’m actually not interested and the only reason why I followed you into your apartment is because I’m thirsty and desperate enough to let my guard down to follow some hot foreign stranger home._ ” Not only would Yuuri look pathetic as fuck but Viktor would no doubt post this situation on all of his social media (and okay maybe Yuuri was able to find Viktor’s Instagram and Facebook--Leave him alone) and Yuuri would never be able to venture outside without someone whispering about how pitiful he was.

“Is there anything you’re not understanding, Yuuri?” Viktor asks as a perfect example of a professional businessman. He patiently eyed the Japanese male and even gave him another encouraging smile as if he already figured out all of Yuuri’s inner self doubts and mental illnesses. It was a bit disconcerting to be read so finely like Viktor was currently doing.

“Uh, no, that’s not it… You see…Uh,” Yuuri struggled with his words as he licked his dry lips, “I’m sorry.”

Viktor blinked. “Excuse me?”

It was like dynamite exploded next to a dam and the water released his words. “I’m not actually interested in this program.” Yuuri mumbled rapidly. Viktor stared at him owlishly without a lick of understanding dawning on his perfect complexion.

“Excuse me?” He repeated himself, “I didn’t hear what you just said.” Yuuri gulps with shallow breaths receding within his body before expelling back out. He sounded rushed as if his tongue was numb from winter frost and he decided to eat ice cream at the same time.

“Yuuri,” Viktor’s eyebrows knit together in confusion and concern, “slow down a little. Are you alright?”

 _No,_ he wants to scream, _no, I’m not okay and I don’t think I’ll ever be but you’ll probably just think I’m a negative loner who’s such an outcast that their friend had to fucking pretend to be them on something close to paying a host website. I’m not okay because I think my like for you goes beyond wanting to bed you, but I’m too awkward and clumsy and inexperienced to be with someone like you anyway._

Instead, Yuuri ducks his head a little further down and barely registers the words transferring from his scrambled brain to the outside world, a harsh world in which words and actions would never be able to be taken back.

“I’m not actually interested in you!” He nearly shouts and he definitely, _definitely_ fucks up his words because what he just said? That was literal bullshit spewing out of his mouth and he thinks if he keeps it up he will be able to cure world hunger by fertilizing all the fucking world with how much shit comes out of his mouth.

Viktor still blinks owlishly. “I’m sorry?” A frown is beginning to mar his beautiful features while lines began to appear between his eyebrows.

“Uh, okay, that was _not_ what I was supposed to say.” Yuuri blurts out. He kind of wants to fling himself out of the window now. Forget the whole elaborate name changing plan. He could easily hurl his full weight out of the ten story building, angle his head towards the ground, and kill himself in under two minutes. It was a gory, gruesome train of thought, but when you’re faced with a humiliating debacle and coincidentally also have really bad anxiety, you will literally do anything to escape that situation.

“What were you trying to say then?” Viktor cautiously words out with the professional facade still plastered on his face like a golden smiley face sticker. Yuuri cringes so hard he almost gives himself a heart attack.

“I just--uh, I’m not good with--uh, okay, well what I was _trying_ to say was, uh,” Yuuri stammers through grit teeth; finally, he gives up and sighs, “I’m a trainwreck.” He mutters, mainly to himself. The crimson hue resembling a crab has draped itself on the apples of his cheeks, the tips of his ears, and the shadow of his neck. He’s so utterly ashamed of himself that Yuuri vows to just end it all in the next few minutes.

The Russian man has been almost gawking at him for the past three minutes of Yuuri’s uncontrollable anxiety contorting his every single word and action. Yuuri is mortified Viktor was the one to experience the whole car accident that just appeared in his words ( _I kinda wish I was_ **_in_ ** _that car accident_ , Yuuri bitterly thinks).

“Wow,” is all Viktor _can_ really say, and Yuuri can’t really blame him. What else are you supposed to say when your client suddenly blurted out random shit, nearly had a panic attack, then proceeded to _try_ to fix the situation by stuttering up another storm? Yuuri could practically hear Viktor’s friends and coworkers howling in laughter at his inability to fucking act like a regular person.

“Look, I’m sorry.” Yuuri is positive his chin will be attached to his neck with how tucked away his head is in shame, “I’m sorry I’m like this. I just---my friend set this all up for me and I really don’t have a need for a rent-a-boyfriend _thing_ or the money, so I’m sorry I wasted your time with um, all of this.” His arms wildly gesture around his body to indicate the whole mess he managed to land himself in.

“I have, like, really bad anxiety.” Yuuri refuses to meet Viktor’s eyes, but he can feel the taller man’s orbs boring into his lightly quivering body, “I’m not good with talking to people and stuff, so--I’m sorry, I’ll just leave.” He hastily runs away as fast he can. The amount of unpleasant predicaments he’s encountered today is more than enough for his introvert self, and he’s just ready to curl up on his rusty couch, forget all the fancy schmancy shit he nearly landed himself in, eat ice cream while crying uncontrollably, and watch some _Steven Universe_ to forget he’s an adult for five hours.

“Wait, wait!” Viktor seems to kick back into his normal self when he realizes Yuuri is exiting the building as soon as possible and he’s chasing down the shorter male before the other can face the point of no return.

“Yuuri, wait!” Yuuri hurries faster towards the front door. He’s only a few seconds away from _freedom_ ; the only tricky part is dragging his shoes onto his feet while scrambling it out of the door. Yuuri decides to _just fuck it_ and leave barefoot with his shoes in his hand, but Viktor reaches him before he can even try to decipher the five different locks on Viktor’s door. Suspicious. Viktor was becoming more and more like a serial killer as the seconds ticked by.

“Look, I just like want to leave and you don’t have to see my face ever again.” Yuuri tiredly says as he’s being flipped around to face Viktor. He refuses to maintain any sort of eye contact--communication--with Viktor; a sigh ripples out of Viktor’s mouth as a gentle finger tilts up Yuuri’s chin until sparkling blue meets dull brown.

“But I don’t want that.” Viktor quietly dispels. Something genuine and crooked and absolutely _breathtaking_ breaks over Viktor’s handsome facade. He’s grinning, Yuuri realizes elatedly. He’s smiling and it’s neither forced or fake.

“What, but _why_ \--”

“Shh.” Viktor shushes Yuuri up with a finger to his lips. He smooths over his fingertip across Yuuri’s slightly damp lips (from all the nervous biting), caressing it with light touches as Viktor’s face appears closer, nearer, to Yuuri’s own. Yuuri gulps again. Viktor is only a breath away once more, but this time, he doesn’t seem to _want_ to let go.

“You’re fascinating, Yuuri…” Viktor’s words nuzzle at his ears with a softness rabbits can relate to. “Ever since I first met you…”

“At the cafe?” Yuuri wonders. Even back then, he was all jittery and so so _weird._ For a second, an almost hurt confusion dulls Viktor’s bright eyes, but as soon as his befuddled expression sets in, comprehension dawns on his face.

“Ah, I see.” Viktor slowly releases Yuuri’s chin from his grip. “You don’t remember…” A touch of melancholic disappointment lingers in dew drop eyes before the clouds clear up, and Viktor is forcing a grin back onto his face.

“Why don’t we become friends, Yuuri?” Viktor suddenly announces.

“...what?”

Viktor hums, content with his decision and oblivious to Yuuri’s growing unease. “You know, companions! Buddies! _Friends_!”

“I know what a friend is, Viktor.” Yuuri deadpans; he’s a little offended but he brushes it off when Viktor fixes him with a cheery smile.

“Perfect! Then let’s stay in contact!”

“Wait, but--”

“Ah, look at the time! You must be going now then!”

“Wait, Viktor, we can’t--I’m not--”

“Nonsense! I’ll text you later! Maybe we can get coffee tomorrow?”

“Viktor, this isn’t--”

“Okay, bye!” He shut the door behind Yuuri before the other male could openly protest some more. Yuuri isn’t the type of person to continue knocking on the door either (unlike his roommate, Phichit), so he sighs forlornly, toes on his ratty sneakers--one untied, one tied--and heads towards the elevator with a foreboding feeling.

On the way, he exchanges brief eye contact with the same angsty kid, except it’s more of Yuuri eeping in recognition, the other kid giving him the stink eye, and Yuuri ducking his head down while he ran away with his tail between his legs.

At least the day couldn’t get any fucking worse.

 

 

 


	3. burgundy roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri wakes up after a night of drunken bowling fun in Viktor's house. Also, someone gets arrested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey yall i pulled an all nighter to push out this chapter it's 9 am over here ive been typing for the past 9 hours (technically like 7 bc i started writing chapter 3 at 2 am) and let's just say im shaking bc that's how tired i am rip mmm whatcha say
> 
> bc of how tired i am im so sorry i have no idea wtf is going on in this chapter but i really liked writing it which is the only reason why i typed non stop with basically no breaks lmao like this is unbetad i legit just stopped writing my fanfic like rn 
> 
> so to recap: unbetad, idk what happens (i dont remember), food mentions, and like not even angst?? but discourse between yuuri and viktor i guess idk

 

 

 

The first thing Yuuri files into his brain is how utterly  _ soft  _ and pliable the bedding beneath him is. He smells a hint of lavender and a splash of fresh cotton linens emitting from the comfortable bed and smiles sleepily, eyes still glued shut with exhaustion. Surprisingly enough, the birds have not flown south yet for a few of them chirp outside of his window, a simple, clean melody that alerts him of how nice the day will turn out.

Certainly better than yesterday, when he was drunk and then---and then....and then…? It’s the sense of dread and horror that jolts him awake as Yuuri’s eyes suddenly snap open. He doesn’t remember ever owning such a high class bed that  _ reeked  _ of natural perfumes imported from France and he doesn’t remember ever living in a peaceful part of the city. No, the only place sleepy and serene like the unrecognizable room he’s in is his hometown back in Japan, and unless Yuuri got so fucking shitfaced that he somehow managed to not only book a flight and safely arrive in Japan while  _ drunk _ , then Yuuri has no fucking clue where he is.

“What the fuck…” Yuuri whispers in awe. He surveys the area cautiously. He vividly remembers Phichit explicitly reminding him to be careful while he was drunk since his mouth ran wild and his clothes looser every time he drank a little too freely. Yuuri grimaced at the sudden possibility of his grievous actions, and he can only breath out a sigh of relief when he recognizes the clothes he’s still wearing. 

The black haired male sighs out in sudden exhaustion. The bed looks invitingly warm, still tinged with his body heat, and the room is turning his nipples into stone. Yuuri half contemplates crawling back under the nice smelling, warm bed, but his anxiety fucks him up hard up the ass with a cactus dildo, so Yuuri is forced into the unwelcome frozen temperatures of the wooden floorboards and cast outside into unknown territory. 

The white walls are about as friendly as jail inmates. Yuuri shivers a little in his thin clothing; he swings his head back and forth in light curiosity and apprehension of how utterly  _ empty  _ the house is. A feeling of strong deja vu is hitting him in the back of his head (it’s mainly blanketed over by the growing hangover his brain suddenly and helpfully supplies) before he steps completely out of the blank hallway (devoid of any sort of decoration) and into a much brighter room. 

For a second, he believes he’s dreaming. He’s floating on clouds, maybe on some sort of acid trip, because there is no way in  _ hell  _ he’s in Viktor Nikiforov’s living room, dressed up in yesterday’s attire, and watching Viktor’s form from the open kitchen as the other male danced around the floor boards. Yuuri is practically  _ positive  _ that Phichit must have slipped him a shroom, maybe marijuana, into his drink because he feels at peace instead of freaking out like a chicken with its head cut off. 

There’s something oddly domestic and romantic in the way Viktor moves. He’s a dancer, fluid like the river and as brilliant as the sparkling, clear waters in the mountains. Even when he’s flipping something mouthwatering in a pitch black pan, he does so with an elegance many practicing ballerinas wish to hold, to have. 

Yuuri is besotted, plagued with idealistic dreams. He blames Phichit for forcing him to watch romantic comedies, and curses his roommate out even more when  _ his  _ voice whispers, “You  _ are  _ part of a romantic comedy, Yuuri.” 

“Oh, good morning, Yuuri!” Viktor sings as he finally notices the awkwardly hovering Yuuri standing by the entrance of the hallway. Yuuri freezes up. Despite the chilly temperature inside the flat, Yuuri’s hands are slick with sweat as the proposition of this being reality becomes startlingly obvious. 

Yuuri nearly flees back into the bedroom (and nearly faints when he wonders if it was  _ Viktor’s _ ), screaming his lungs out. 

“Uhh…” He splutters out instead. Viktor doesn’t seem to mind his tongue tied state for he cheerily continues to flip pancakes (?) onto two different plates. Yuuri’s stomach growls appreciatively at the delicious smell wafting from the kitchen, and Yuuri can only clutch his stomach in embarrassment when Viktor swivels his head over to regard the shorter male with fond amusement. 

“Cute,” he thinks he hears Viktor say, but he’s not about to raise his hopes high up only for them to come crashing down when a charismatic, beautiful creature such as Viktor moves on from him. Yuuri yawns slightly as he shuffles over to the kitchen. He may as well be polite and ask if his host needs any help, after all. 

“Do you, uh, need any help?” Yuuri bites his lip; however, he’s glad he didn’t stammer as much as he would usually around the beautiful man. Viktor smiles--all teeth and thin lips like a shark before promptly shooing Yuuri out of the kitchen. Yuuri is a little crestfallen at being unable to help, which Viktor catches on embarrassingly quick, so he drags his feet over to the small rounded glass table off to the side. 

“Wait, Yuuri,” Viktor calls out. He beams gorgeously at Yuuri when Yuuri turns, and the shorter male’s face burns brighter than a newly screwed in light bulb, “could you set the table for me,  _ dear _ ?” The Russian pet name does not go unnoticed by Yuuri, who only seems to flush a deeper, more permanent crimson, but he doesn’t comment on it. On the contrary, he very much likes the pet name.

“Sure.” Yuuri mentally pats himself on the back for slowly becoming used to Viktor’s regal presence. His face lights up as he wanders the unexplored kitchen, his eyes wide as an excited child’s and his face as expressive as an open book. He doesn’t catch another affectionate stare thrown offhandedly from his company as he continues to meander around the kitchen, breathing in something savory, yet sweet, and eyeing the flowers strewn across the tops of the cupboards. 

“The plates are in that cupboard and utensils are in here.” Viktor points towards the plates cupboard with his spatula and opens the drawer closest to the dishwasher to indicate where the utensils are. Yuuri nods in comprehension. 

Carefully, the shorter male opens up the wooden cupboard (with a cute flowery design in various pinks, greens, and reds) before seeking out large dinner plates for the breakfast Viktor’s managed to cook up. When Yuuri swings his head back over to the stove, he immediately notes about three different pans, all with three different types of foods, being cooked at the same time.

Viktor knows how to cook. Viktor is a fucking  _ culinary  _ student, Yuuri thinks as he watches Viktor expertly flip the sunny side eggs up and onto the other side. 

“Plate me, Yuuri.” 

“W-What?” Yuuri gives Viktor the most confused deer-in-headlights expression he’s ever had because what Viktor said sounded suspiciously like,  _ date me _ . 

“Plates. The ones you’re holding.” Viktor explains slowly without turning his back on the food. Yuuri bobs his head up nervously--even though Viktor couldn’t even see it--and scrambles over to hand Viktor a plate. Fortunately, he does not slip on the icy floors with his sock clad feet, cause  _ boy, howdy  _ would that be humiliating. 

“Thanks.” Viktor winks at Yuuri once before he’s back to flipping either with his wrists or the spatula against the food. Luckily, he misses how dark red Yuuri became when the black haired male was thanked. “I hope you like your eggs over-easy.” 

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” The saddest part is Yuuri doesn’t even know what that  _ means _ . I mean, he’s heard of the saying a few times when he was out in diners, but he doesn’t actually exactly know what that implies. Was that some sort of code that only cooks and underpaid servers knew about? Was that like a good thing or a bad thing? 

Yuuri was too tired, too depressed, too fucking  _ poor  _ to think of any food other than cheap take out and instant ramen that could also say “over-easy”, so he assumes it’s probably just for eggs. God, Yuuri is a  _ mess _ . 

Yuuri quietly continues onto his quest of setting the table as he grabs two paper towels and rummages through the drawer for two knives, two small spoons, and two forks for the breakfast meal. He sinks into the shadows of the white walled house, darker than the bags under his eyes as Yuuri props the folded paper towels on opposite sides of the table and carefully positions the utensils as pretty as he can on top. It looks like shit but Yuuri isn’t being paid for his server skills and his migraine is bigger than fucking Russia at this point for him to care.

By the time Viktor is done with cooking up a hearty, home cooked breakfast (keyword:  _ home cooked _ ), Yuuri is grouchy and hungry and all things miserable as he slouches on the table and wishes for the world to come to an end already. Viktor chuckles, arousing Yuuri from the slump he’s in. His brain has at least the decency to feel abashed enough for him to jerk up into a proper sitting formation, but it’s too late. Viktor’s beautiful wind chime laughter is already embedded in the depths of Yuuri’s soul.

“I have some tylenol and advil, if you want.” Viktor offers. He sets down the round plates full of  _ free  _ food on both sides of the table, but doesn’t sit down. Yuuri feels bad enough that Viktor not only picked him up from the bowling alley but also allowed him to sleepover and even made breakfast for his drunk ass. Yuuri opens his mouth to shower the Russian male with gratitude, but Viktor is already gone to search for painkillers, and Yuuri is dying because he’s torn between waiting for Viktor’s return or devouring the meal in front of him like a starved animal.

Fortunately, Viktor is back within five minutes (five torturous minutes of the food taunting him and Yuuri’s stomach trying to eat itself) and he slides suavely into his seat (how does one sit down  _ coolly _ ) across from Yuuri’s. 

“Oh, wait, I forgot drinks!” Viktor frets, and it’s so utterly  _ human  _ and so unlike the god like pedestal Yuuri props him up on (and basically anyone attractive) that Yuuri snorts aloud. Viktor responds with something akin to glee in his water like eyes, and Yuuri can only blush at how gross he must have sounded.

“Sorry. Uh, I can get the cups and you can get the drinks?” Yuuri awkwardly proposes, and the resulting beam from his “genius” thought is enough to lower his self hatred for a bit--only a little bit though. 

“Perfect, Yuuri!” Viktor praises as he slinks over to the kitchen to grab a pot of coffee. Yuuri wrinkles his nose at the thought of bitter dirt water, but he’s not ungrateful enough to ask for anything else to drink, especially when Viktor’s filled up the coffee pot enough to kill a horse. Instead, Yuuri sends a few longing looks to the fridge for another beverage, and delights in the way Viktor catches on easily, as if he’s known Yuuri for  _ years  _ instead of days, when he abruptly opens the door and brings out a gallon of milk and a small carton of half and half.

Yuuri smiles kindly, his heart pumping at the sort of connection he has with Viktor. He bypasses the plates cupboard completely and guesses that the mugs are in the adjacent one. He assumes correctly and wiggles his hips a little in a cute dance that is  _ not  _ invisible to a smiling Viktor. Yuuri’s eyes light up when he’s excited (and right for once) with eyes richer than chocolate and a curled, satisfied smile that resembled the strokes of a painted wave.

However, just as soon as Yuuri is content, he’s faced with another entire set of problems. He pouts a little as he realizes that the cups are just a little bit out of reach; the shelf the mugs are placed upon in orderly rows is about a head higher than him, and Yuuri curses once more of the scant few inches separating him and victory. He’s unaware of the entertained, fond look Viktor is shooting him as he balances his weight on unsteady tiptoes and stretches towards the mugs. 

His pointer finger catches a little on the mug’s handle, but the stubborn cup doesn’t budge from its upside position on the shelf. Yuuri’s pout tugs his lips deeper down, but he refuses to give in to the challenge. He’s nothing but stubborn--a redeeming quality--in the face of adversity, and Yuuri will  _ not  _ return with a sullen face and empty hands. He’s still, of course, completely ignorant of Viktor coyly standing by the arch of the kitchen entrance, his coffee pot long sat down on the awaiting table with their cooling food and a tiny smirk present on his lips. 

“Come on… Just a little... more…” Yuuri could literally feel his  _ spine  _ stretching with how much effort and power he placed upon his toes. Unfortunately, he was not blessed in a few more inches of height so Yuuri is left frustrated and depressed at how he must ask for help  _ again _ . 

“Viktor--” Yuuri calls out but is interrupted by the sudden warm presence of his  _ friend _ and the press of his well structured chest against his back. Yuuri squeaks a little at the close proximity of their warm bodies, but he freezes so that Viktor can obtain the mugs with no trouble. 

It feels like forever and a half as Viktor “struggles” to reach for the mugs, and Yuuri is half exasperated, half distressed because he  _ knows  _ his food is just about gone cold, and Viktor is  _ still  _ reaching for the goddamn cups. Yes, Yuuri likes having beautiful people press him up against a counter, and  _ yes _ , Yuuri would kind of like to spin around, fling his arms across Viktor’s shoulders, and bring him in for a sweet romantic-comedy worthy kiss. However, there’s  _ food  _ about to be wasted outside, and the number one love besides his puppy, Vicchan, will always be food.

Finally,  _ finally  _ Viktor snags two cute puppy mugs from the abnormally high shelf--who even places mugs that high??--and regrettably steps back. He winks at Yuuri like they’re in on some sort of secret, but Yuuri is lost, hungry, and exhausted at the same time to even think of the implications behind the wink. Yuuri follows Viktor back to the dining room and tries to avoid staring at Viktor’s sashaying hips and pert butt too much, but he’s positive Viktor is onto him when they both sit down and Viktor shoots him a little smirk.

Luckily, the food continues to blow out steam, and Yuuri’s eyes sparkle with the prospect of finally eating. He doesn’t hesitate to murmur a low “let’s eat!” in his mother language before digging into the delicious pancakes, eggs, and bacon. He’s really striving not to scarf all the food down like a complete animal, but his stomach is just demanding for more, more, more while his brain is yelling at him to slow down or he’ll choke, and really, Yuuri is a confused jumble of limbs about to be twisted into a pretzel and roasted under the sun called savagery when Phichit finds out where he’s been.

“Do you like the food?” Viktor asks at one point. Yuuri bobs his head up and down enthusiastically. His cheeks bulge like a chipmunk’s with the served pancakes, jam, and sour cream while his eyes twinkle beyond the galaxies and into a whole other dimension. When he swallows, he beams at Viktor without really meaning to and carefully pats at his mouth with his napkin. 

“It’s really good, Viktor!” Yuuri compliments. He squints a little at Viktor when a little sprinkling of pink dusts the other male’s pale cheekbones but doesn’t divulge further when his stomach commands for more. Yuuri finishes up the rest of the eggs and bacon first, leaving behind two more wonderful pancakes for him to savor the taste of. 

“Oh, uh, Viktor…” Yuuri catches the other man’s attention. They had been silent so far other than a few snippets of one sided conversation with Viktor talking a little and Yuuri grunting as his replies. Viktor pauses mid-sip of his coffee before placing his undivided attention on the Japanese male. Yuuri preens a little at how attentive Viktor is, but hides it behind an awkward cough.

“Um, can I, like, use your microwave?” Yuuri nudges his head towards the kitchen to convey his meaning. Viktor nods his consent. 

“Okay.” Yuuri staggers up from his seat, his small belly slightly protruding from its usual flat state to illustrate his content, full stomach. There’s a tiny dance in his step as he confidently heads towards the kitchen with his empty mug in hand. He doesn’t catch the reddening of Viktor’s ears nor of the tiny grin creeping up on the silver haired man’s face. 

Yuuri easily fills up his mug with milk, slides the gallon back into an empty spot in the fridge, and pops his cup into the microwave. After a minute and a half, Yuuri carefully extracts the mug from the microwave and shuts the door hard enough to close it but soft enough for the sound to be weak. He grabs the mug by the handle before heading back into the dining room with a lazy gleam of his eye. 

He barely notices how domestic and sweet he’s acting as he sits down in his chair once more and hovers his fingers around the mug so as to not burn himself. He finds solace and comfort within the heated beverage, and Yuuri sips happily at the milk before sighing in bliss as the warm liquid spirals down to his belly. 

“Do you not like the pancakes?” Viktor breaks the silence first. His eyes are alight with curiosity, bright as clean cut sapphires and just as dazzling. Yuuri’s eyes widen at the sudden intimation. 

“W-What? No!” Yuuri blurts with a mortified blush upon his face. He feels like he’s been sunburnt with how much heat radiates from his cheeks. His hands spazz on the table, where they are perched above the fork and knife to dig into the last few pancakes before Viktor dropped a bomb on the raven haired male. 

“You don’t have to force yourself to eat it, Yuuri.” Viktor clicks his tongue and Yuuri interprets that as  _ annoyance,  _ and oh god, where is the manual on how to not offend attractive people when you need it? 

“No, I’m not!” Yuuri exclaims. He’s a lot louder than he usually is--that his whole aura and attitude shows--and even Viktor jumps at the voluminous sound as it trembles across the bright room. “I really like it! I just, uh, oh gosh, this is really weird.” Yuuri buries his face into his hands. He doesn’t actually know anyone else with the same odd habits as him, so he’s spent most of his life thinking he was some weirdo who did this when in reality, many people shared the same habits as him.

“Yuuri, you can tell me anything.” Viktor croons softly across the table. “I won’t judge at all.” He promises with a comforting grin. Yuuri peeks through fanned out fingers to squint decisively at Viktor. Once he finds no ill intent or harm, Yuuri sighs and slowly peels his hands off his face. His glasses rattle a little from his action, but he makes no movement to fix the slightly crooked spectacles. 

“I like to save the best food for last.” Yuuri admits. He wraps his fingers around the body of the cup once more as if to sooth himself with its warmth. Viktor’s eyes follow his hand motions and, while he’s finishing up the last of the lukewarm pancakes, skim down the slope of Yuuri’s soft body before trailing back up to the fluffiness of the man’s cheeks as he peacefully ate. 

When Yuuri glances over after he ceased eating, he notes the sharp lines of Viktor’s body outlined by the sun’s rays, of the shadows cut beneath pale skin and an angular jaw line. Viktor is nothing but muscles and bones while Yuuri remains his opposite. His heart throbs a little at how handsome Viktor is blanketed by the sunlight while dull, mundane Yuuri sat across from him.

He clears his throat to partially end the silence and completely stop Viktor from gazing at him like he was worth  _ everything _ . Yuuri did not like the scrutiny of Viktor’s calculating eyes, of the sudden warmth and softness emanating from clear blue skies and the light pink flowers that followed it.

“Thanks for the meal.” Yuuri scratches the back of his head with a smile that doesn’t quite line up with the rest of his face, but it’s present and honest enough to satisfy Viktor. “And thanks for picking me up from the bowling alley while I was, well, drunk.” Viktor grins back at him in reply as he stacks up his dirty dishes and crumples up his napkin into a ball.

“It’s nothing for a dear friend.” Yuuri is blatantly aware of how his crush just  _ friendzoned  _ him, but he’s still a little elated at how Viktor--a beautiful, talented specimen--considered  _ him  _ as a friend. On the outside, he’s barely stitching a monotone face back together but on the inside, a few thousand exclamation points fill up the void in his head. He helps to carry his dishes to the sink and nearly fights Viktor over washing dishes. Naturally, he loses and stomps back to the living room where he sulks on the couch of memories™ and pretends not to see how utterly domestic the two of them are acting. 

Before he can dwell on it too long, an obnoxious round of “Never Gonna Give You Up” begins playing on his phone while vibrations run down his leg from the pocket where his device is. From inside the kitchen, Viktor loudly hums the meme, and it takes all of Yuuri not to chuck his phone at the other man, attractive or not. 

Yuuri rolls his eyes as he braces himself for the onslaught of Phichit, who will instantly detect Yuuri’s absence from their shared apartment and tease him on how Yuuri lost his virginity card to a stranger from a  _ bowling alley _ . Yuuri huffs; he loves his friend, truly, but sometimes--and often when he’s experiencing high levels of stress or hangovers--Phichit really could rake across his nerves.

“Hey, Phichit. I’m safe, don’t worry.” 

“ _ Haha, hey, Yuuri! Buddy, pal, companion, friend, best friend.”  _

Yuuri groaned loudly. “What happened this time?” Another round of nervous laughter as Phichit’s voice caved in and out of the staticy reception.

“ _ So, uh, remember when we were joking like last Friday about how one day, one of us would be thrown in jail?”  _

“Uh, random question, but yeah, I do. Why?” He suspiciously asks. 

“ _ Well, uh, so funny story… This kind of maybe happened to me like last night. And I may be in holding right now…”  _ Phichit summarizes with another sheepish laugh. Yuuri facepalms. Another migraine was threatening to crash into his head’s living room at full speed; Yuuri nearly facepalms again when he realized he hadn’t yet taken the painkillers still on the dining table. 

“So I’m the first one you call?” 

_ “Look, Seung-Gil never picks up his phone and both Leo and Guang Hong have class right now. Who else am I supposed to call?!”  _ Phichit sounds on the verge of a tearful panic attack. Yuuri lightly massages his temples as he slowly sits down in his original spot at the dining table and idly thumbs the cap of the bottle of advil in his grasp. Viktor shoots him a confused look as he wipes his hands on a sunflower patterned apron--the one he was wearing this morning--and mouths, “are you okay?” at Yuuri. Yuuri bobs his head up and down, but he doesn’t stop his teeth from worrying at his bottom lip. 

“Okay, Phichit, count with me okay? One, two, three. Breath in. One, two, three. Breath out.” Phichit obediently sucks in a deep breath at three counts and blows it all back out after another three. Yuuri smiled encouragingly, his tone soothing and motherly as he instructs Phichit to continue with the deep breaths. 

“... _ Thanks, Yuuri. I’ve just been freaking out…. They took my baby.”  _

Yuuri arches an eyebrow. “Baby?” He mouths a thanks to Viktor when the other sets down a glass of water before Viktor sits down in the chair adjacent to Yuuri’s instead of across from. 

“ _ Yes, Yuuri, my baby! My  _ **_phone_ ** _! _ ” Phichit wails as softly as he can. Yuuri hears a sharper, stricter voice yell something at Phichit, causing the other male to let loose another sound of distress. Yuuri shushes him calmly before promising to bail Phichit out as soon as possible. His Thai roommate launches into tearsome babbles as he rattled off the prison’s name and cross street before the loud voice returns and the line is cut abruptly. 

Left with an exhausted sigh from both his emptying wallet and himself, Yuuri slumps back against the back of the chair while his grip on the bottle of medication slackened a little. The bottle’s contents clatters with Yuuri’s movements to release him and Viktor from the pensive silence they subjected themselves to. 

“Is everything alright, Yuuri?” Viktor finally questions his friend. Yuuri mutters something incomprehensible as he shakes the bottle again before uncapping it and staring at the cotton ball that was hindering his view of the pills. He debates on whether or not to overdose on the pills before deciding that Viktor was too kind to be suspected for murder when in reality, Yuuri just really wants to die.

“My friend’s in jail and I have to bail him out.” Yuuri explains as calmly as he could. He weasels out a pill from the bottle into his waiting palm and easily pops it in his mouth. The raven haired male gulps it down with a few sips of water and breathes out in a sudden tiredness of his saggy bones weighing him down. His mouth presses into a thin line at the thought of asking for extra money from his family; Yuuri already knows the family business is barely keeping itself alive, and he would hate to ask for money to help Phichit. On the other hand, he couldn’t just let Phichit stay however long in jail while the judge decided on a set date for the trial--for all he knew, it could take  _ weeks _ . 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Yuuri.” Viktor offers an empathetic grin. “I had to bail a few of my friends out before. My cousin, especially--he always had a knack for trouble.” Viktor shrugs nonchalantly; his eyes hold the same warmth when he stared at Yuuri from across the table, blue eyes shiny and almost wet with affection. Yuuri doesn’t dwell too long on the strange topic of Viktor and his relationship. He has a roommate to save and to kick said roommate’s ass.

“It’s okay.” Yuuri reluctantly stretches to his feet. “Thanks again for the food and the bed.” Yuuri is a little more confident around Viktor, and he grins at his newfound friend. Yeah, maybe they could just be friends. Close friends. Inseparable friends.

“You’re welcome to stay over anytime.” A sexual hint is hidden somewhere in his captivating words, Yuuri is sure, but he’s too stricken with anxiety of how he’s going to speak with the people in prison without suffering a near panic attack.  _ For Phichit _ , he thinks,  _ All of this is to make sure Phichit is safe. And to kick his ass for getting thrown into jail in the first place.  _

“Thanks.” Yuuri murmurs distractedly. He pulls up google maps on his phone to input the prison name into the location while setting current location on. He nearly groans aloud at how far the actual prison is and how long it’ll take him just by using public transportation to arrive at the prison.  _ Three hours _ , his phone mockingly states--that’s how long it’ll take.

“Is the prison far?” Viktor inquires curiously. His shoulder brushes Yuuri’s arm, causing the shorter male to freeze up at the light touch. Viktor remains oblivious as he peeks over Yuuri’s shoulder to stare at the small map on the brown eyed man’s phone. The silver haired male hums in thought. 

“I can drive you there, if you’re okay with that.” Viktor suggests. Yuuri instantly shook his head back and forth. He couldn’t ask for more from this kind person. 

“No, it’s alright.” He bit his lip. “I can’t ask you to drive me there after all you’ve, like, done for me.” 

“Don’t worry about it, Yuuri. It’ll only take maybe thirty five minutes if there’s traffic. I don’t want you walking to the closest bus stop in this weather.” Well, Viktor  _ did  _ have a fair point. And the closest bus stop  _ was  _ a mile and a half away. Yuuri nibbled on his lips for a few seconds longer before he finally gave in with a shaky exhale of his breath. 

“Okay, fine.” Yuuri submitted to the puppy eyes from his friend and smiled softly when Viktor openly cheered before sweeping Yuuri up into a huge embrace. Yuuri burst out in a fit of giggles overflowing like a freely babbling brook. He held onto dear life as Viktor spun him around once, twice, before resting Yuuri up a little ways above him, hair haloing out from the bright sunshine of his flat. 

Viktor sighed happily, gazing up with a kind of yearning that tugged at Yuuri’s heart strings. He smiled gently as he was hypnotized by how utterly ethereal Viktor stood below him, feet anchored on the ground and rippling muscles holding him up as if his weight was equivalent to a feather’s. Yuuri loved the sunshine reflecting off of silver ribbons, of the blue of his eyes tying up the whole package, and of the way Viktor’s lips curled just so to show how truly delighted he was to be in Yuuri’s presence. 

They knelt a little closer, tightened the gap between them a little more as Yuuri swept a bit of Viktor’s long silver bangs out of his face. His fingers strayed in the taller man’s soft locks, fingertips burning as he etched a smooth trail down, down, down from Viktor’s hair until he ran out of bangs to hold, and the skin beneath his fingertips stung with electricity. Yuuri marvelled in awe as Viktor turned his head slightly until Yuuri was cupping his whole cheek with his palm. 

Yuuri wondered if this is what holding the world-- _ his  _ world--would feel like. 

Viktor nuzzled his warm hand with a chilly, pink nose. Yuuri smiled softly before he released his hold on Viktor’s cheek and lightly tapped him on the shoulder. He understood the hint right away for Viktor eased Yuuri down onto the ground, a gentle smile encompassing both of their faces--they matched, oddly enough, despite the contrasts between the sharp lines and soft curves of both counterparts. Yuuri quite liked that.

“Okay, well,” Yuuri cleared his throat in a meaningful, serious manner. Viktor stepped back, almost in regret, as his hand wove out from around Yuuri’s waist previously and he dropped his arms to his sides. Yuuri’s eyes darted to the ground in wonder, his own sprinkling of pink smearing his cheeks in a light bubblegum hue. Without looking back, he strode ahead to the front door to wait for Viktor without needing to stare at the other. 

When he looked at Viktor, his heart soared, his mind wandered, and his lips tingled with the feeling of  _ close, close _ , but never enough.

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


As it turned out, Viktor enjoyed humming. They had been driving for the past twenty minutes when the lunch rush surged forward, complete with honking horns from impatient car owners and a bit of open cursing from the even more impatient. Yuuri personally didn’t mind traffic, especially when he was currently trapped in a car with a very, very attractive Russian man. 

But, yes, Viktor  _ did  _ hum, and on one occasion, the silver haired male even sang a few words along with the artist. And just as hauntingly beautiful as his thick accented voice was, his singing voice proved to be much, much more. The more Yuuri listened to the other sing along with the male artist, the deeper his affection for Viktor ran. With every note, every lilt of his rich baritone, a part of Viktor carved its way into Yuuri, quick as a roaring stream, precise as an arrow’s trajectory.

He discovered a little part of Viktor every time they spoke. Everything ranging from favorite season (spring) to his birthday (he was a Christmas baby), Yuuri just about gobbled up. He enjoyed talking with Viktor about random nothings and simple bits of their history. He liked to learn of the little things that composed all of VIktor, like tiny pearls embedded in a whole art piece. He came to learn of Viktor’s passion for ice skating, hockey, and skiing. Viktor liked to read during the winter, curled up by the fire with a book tucked close to his chest. He liked poodles and bitter coffee, the color purple, desserts, flowers (he spoke little of his mother but enough for Yuri to understand how big of an impact she was), and rain. 

“My mother taught me how to cook when I was younger.” Viktor tenderly said with a wobbly tone and a wetness to his eyes that didn’t quite belong. Yuuri’s heart cried for him, even as Viktor’s right hand searched for Yuuri’s until he was holding onto Yuuri’s hand for dear life.

“She loved  _ blintzes _ \--the--the pancakes we had this morning.” His hold tightened a smidge, but the same plastic smile did not wane. “That was the first thing she taught me as soon as I turned six.” Yuuri squeezed his hand reassuringly and was rewarded with a looser smile, a kinder glint in Viktor’s eye that didn’t immediately freeze in the ice storm. 

“She must have been a wonderful mother.” Yuuri mourned. Viktor hummed, a shaky sounding thing that didn’t bode well with Yuuri. The Japanese male stroked Viktor’s thumb with his own as a sign of comfort, to let him know that he was there and would not leave.

“She was.” 

“Do you want me to change the subject?” 

“Yes… Please.” His voice cracked at the end, but Yuuri didn’t comment. They spent the rest of their time recalling past trifles. In an attempt to cheer Viktor up, Yuuri begrudgingly retold a few drunken tales--many which Phichit documented on his phone as blackmail. There were many, many dark times in Yuuri’s life, and although he would regularly chose not to remember them often, he would persevere for the sake of Viktor’s smile.

And when laughter exploded from his mouth in voluminous ripples that bounced around the sleek car and echoed in Yuuri’s ears, Yuuri knew he wouldn’t mind replaying all of his embarrassing moments if only to hear another drawn out syllable of Viktor’s gorgeous laughter.

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


“Oh, thank  _ Buddha _ you’re here, Yuuri!” Phichit dramatically exclaimed. He was escorted out by a few guards after Yuuri--with Viktor’s reassuring shoulder squeeze as he nonchalantly draped an arm over his shoulders like a scarf--announced his presence as resident “bailer”: one which bailed people out, specifically of the Thai Roommate named Phichit Chulanont type™. 

“You’re hopeless, Phichit. What even happened?” Yuuri dreaded the answer behind the question for his sanity. They were currently walking back to Viktor’s parked car, a shiny, sleek black BMW, after Viktor paid for bail. Now, Yuuri did try to argue with his companion over paying for it, mainly because Viktor practically demanded to help. He would not take no for an answer either, leaving a tense silence behind the last five minutes of the ride to the prison. Eventually, Yuuri conceded when he realized he was short a hundred and currently only held about $20 in his pocket--clearly not enough to pay for whatever the bail was.

Turns out, the bail cost about $500. Yuuri didn’t know much about how the law worked and the degrees of bails, types of bails, etc., but even he recognized a severe crime when thrown in front of him under the context of money. That five hundred could have paid for Yuuri’s books and another class.

He thanked Viktor over and over again continuously until even Phichit had to physically tell him to shut up. Yuuri flushed from how annoying he must have sounded, but Viktor squeezed his hand from where he was gingerly holding it, like something precious, and hadn’t stopped holding since the car ride from his apartment. Phichit whistled lowly, but instantly became recaptured with his social life on his cellular device, leaving Yuuri to glare at his friend from the rearview mirror.

“Now for a ‘I busted out of jail’ selfie!” Phichit exclaimed as he suddenly dove forward in between Viktor and Yuuri’s seats. He snickered at their entwined hands, didn’t actually say anything; for that, Yuuri was grateful enough to consent a selfie with Phichit. In the end, the Thai roommate snapped about fifty more selfies before he was satisfied with his quenched phone deprivation. 

“Thanks for bailing me out, by the way.” Phichit pat both Yuuri and Viktor on the shoulder. “Especially you, Viktor. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Yuuri, you got yourself a sugar daddy, and I am so so proud.” He pretended to wipe a tear away and blow his nose in his oversized jacket, but Yuuri was having none of it. He colored like someone stained beets on his cheeks and shook his head.

“Viktor isn’t my, uh, sugar daddy. We aren’t  _ like that _ , Phichit.” Yuuri shot him a warning glare. Phichit smiled sheepishly as he settled back into his seat and crossed one leg over the other. Viktor remained eerily silent, like the calm before the storm, as he continued to speed down the highway towards the area the roommates lived in. Yuuri glanced worriedly at Viktor from the corner of his eye; the other male didn’t seem to be fazed by any of Phichit’s words, but something seemed a little  _ off _ .

“I’ll find a way to pay you back.” Yuuri promised as he stared at Viktor and willed for the other to turn his head to the side, to share a sweet smile with him and not seem so  _ cold _ , like he was literally carved from stone. Yuuri sunk back in the seat when all he received from his counterpart was a simple grunt--not even a beautiful hum--and a quick side eye that seemed to be enough for Viktor to appraise and judge him based off of that. 

Phichit glanced between the two awkward “lovebirds” before deciding against chatting animatedly with either. Obviously, whatever tension between the two would not diffuse even with a few jokes and light teasing remarks from the Thai male. He did not miss the way Yuuri’s eyes lingered on Viktor’s rigid form nor of how Viktor’s hand on Yuuri’s clenched a little tighter, a little more possessive. 

The radio played a few random songs and about a billion boring commercials before the trio finally arrived at the dusty complex Phichit and Yuuri lived in. Yuuri’s hand paused as he moved to exit the car. Phichit gave them a well meaning look, jerking his head to the left when he met Yuuri’s eye and mouthed, “talk to him” (or at least, that’s what Yuuri assumed since he could not read lips). Phichit winked at Yuuri once in encouragement before casually skipping up towards their shared flat.

“Phichit was joking.” Yuuri explained again as if feeling the need to justify himself. Viktor didn’t meet his eyes; clearly, the offhand teasing Phichit kick-started did not sit well with the Russian man. His head may have been turned to shut out his emotions to Yuuri, but the other male could plainly see Viktor’s clenched jaw and the hold on his hand hadn’t slackened since he last tightened it. 

“I’m sorry, Viktor.” Yuuri felt a few tears well up in his eyes without his permission. God, he was fucking stupid and emotional at the worst possible times. His voice cracked a little, which was enough for Viktor to snap his head back and stare at Yuuri with wide eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve been nothing but a burden to you. You probably feel like I’m just using you for money and free things, but I promise you, I really am not. I’m still in college, you know, so it’s hard sometimes with money and stuff, and god, I  _ still  _ sound like a gold digger.” He rambled on uncontrollably. The words flowed out with a few stray waterworks that trailed down his pale face. He must have looked absolutely revolting with snot and tears and bags under his eyes.

Viktor finally sighed, his shoulders slumping down from its previous stiff formation. His eyes softened, the ice finally melting when the summer sky chased it away. He softened his hold on Yuuri’s hand as well, a bit of an apology in his eyes as leaned his head back against the seat. He shut his eyes and exhaled deeply.

“You’re going to be the death of me one day, Yuuri.” Viktor announced. Opening up one eye, he lazily regarded the other with the familiar playful gleam Yuuri recognized (and loved) right away. 

“I’m sorry.” Yuuri quietly repeated. “I know I’m a bother to you, and we’ve only known each other for like three days, but…” He tilted his head to one side in thought. “I feel like we’ve at least met each other once…” Viktor rose his head curiously at the statement. Excitement traveled from his beating heart to his eyes as his whole body rose with him. He turned his body until he faced Yuuri. 

“We have! You just don’t remember!” Viktor brushed over Yuuri’s hand currently encased in Viktor’s other hand with his unoccupied hand. He pulled Yuuri’s hand up to his face, both hands trapping Yuuri’s as the energy from his face diminished. His face was gentle and pretty at the same time as he lightly squeezed Yuuri’s hand one more time before guiding it closer to his lips. 

Yuuri gasped lightly when Viktor’s lips gently pecked the back of his hand. Viktor’s lips were smooth with chapstick, and spot in which he kissed Yuuri tingled with a slightly damp warmth. Viktor slowly released Yuuri’s hand before pulling one side of his cheek up. A handsomely crooked smile on his crush’s face only seemed to spark something wonderfully giddy in his chest, and he cradled his left hand with rosy cheeks and a beaming smile.

“Thank you again, for everything.” Yuuri whispered, shyly ducking his head when Viktor’s grin widened. Beneath long, thin black eyelashes and a pair of nerdy blue glasses, he was still the epitome of mysterious beauty, a timid grin gracing his face as he opened the car door and eased himself out. 

“You’re welcome, Yuuri.” Viktor purred, his name rolling off like sugary candy. “I hope to hear from you very, very soon.” From his ducked head, Yuuri could make out Viktor’s not too subtle wink and the alluring, sultry grin that followed. Yuuri giggled nervously behind long fingers as he waved at Viktor one more time before shutting the door behind him. Walking back was a blur to him, and he couldn’t help but stop two or three times to wave back at Viktor, who’s amused, adoring eyes filled Yuuri with something like  _ love _ . 

Finally, Yuuri tore himself away from the magnet attraction he held towards Viktor in order to plant himself firmly inside of the house (at the very least) before he had a meltdown. Once the door swung close behind him, Yuuri crumpled to the ground into an awkward squatting position. Yet, he did not care. He did not care when Phichit called out his name nor when the male actually bumbled out of his room and broke into a shit eating grin as soon as he saw the flustered state his best friend was in.

“You love him!” Phichit sang and delighted in the way Yuuri’s simmering glare did nothing to scare Phichit when Yuuri was as red as a tomato. Phichit laughed as Yuuri pounced; he sped away towards the living room and didn’t allow himself to be captured until he was in his room and the familiar, soothing sounds of his hamsters running on their wheels filled the room. Phichit screeched when Yuuri tumbled into him and they both fell onto the bed in a giant heap of a laughing mess.

“Phichit Chulanont, you are  _ so  _ getting it tonight!” Yuuri yelped as he found one of Phichit’s pillows a perfect murder weapon to attack his roommate with. The Thai male laughed boisterously as he held up his arms to somewhat deflect the pillow. 

“Getting what? A blowjob?” Phichit smirked playfully. “So that you can practice before you go down on Viktor?” Yuuri’s spluttering only seemed to encourage Phichit as he chortled loudly at his friend’s embarrassment. Yuuri pushed his shoulder weakly but allowed the other male to prop himself up into a proper criss cross applesauce position. 

“I hate you so much.” Yuuri flipped Phichit off. Phichit just laughed, the shit.

“I know you don’t, Yuuri! You love me too much to hate me!” 

“I should have just let you rot in the jail for a couple more hours.” 

“Yuuri!” Phichit gasped in a mock scandalized voice. “I can’t believe you would say something as awful as that! They took away my phone as soon as I got there!” 

“Wait, you never explained why you were placed in holding or whatever in the first place.” Yuuri pointed out as he curiously arched one eyebrow. 

“Oh, yeah! Here wait, let me pull up that one text post that’s like my all time fav on tumblr…” Phichit scrolled through his already open phone (no surprise there) to find the particular text post or meme that somehow landed him in jail. Typical Phichit.

“And, I found it!” Phichit thrust the phone in his face, causing Yuuri to nearly throw himself back and out of Phichit’s window had it been opened. Yuuri glared at Phichit’s overzealous phone tendencies, but the other male simply urged him to look at the text post.

“‘So, uh, could I ask you a question. Yeah. Why are we lying in the parking lot? Your hook-shot knocked you unconscious, so I laid down next to you so everyone would just think we’re chilling..’” Yuuri blankly read it aloud before giving Phichit a blank look. “What does this even mean? Did you accidentally beat someone up and the cops found you?” 

“No, no, it’s far worse than that.” Phichit said with a grin. 

“Uh…”

“Yeah, well, you see, I really like that quote or meme or  _ whatever  _ and so I see this random dude just like lying on the street right?”

“Okay… Go on…” 

“Well, turns out he was actually dead.” 

“OH MY GOD!” Phichit sagely nodded while Yuuri placed a delicate hand over his mouth as he softly gasped.

“I was so drunk that I just sat there, waiting for this guy to wake up so that I could be his “wingman”. Yeah, then the cops showed up because someone saw me and this guy who wasn’t breathing just, like, lying together and called the police.” 

“So, basically, what you’re trying to tell me is that you were so drunk you didn’t notice a dead guy lying next to you on the side of the road?” 

“Yeah, but it’s chill. I didn’t touch the guy or anything and I was just there at a wrong, drunken time.” 

Yuuri slapped a palm against his forehead. “I can’t believe you got arrested for trying to re-enact a  _ meme  _ of all things.”

“Actually, it’s more of a scene from this one show, I think? I dunno. I just think the quote is relatable. The good news is that all the cops believe that I’m not guilty, so that’s cool. They still need to do a trial and stuff though, just in case, hence the whole expensive bail thing.” Phichit explained as he flicked through his phone. Yuuri kind of wanted to slap Phichit upside the head.

“You are so fucking unbelievable sometimes.” Yuuri said instead because most of the time, verbal damage left scars that didn’t heal. And yeah, maybe he was a little salty about the whole Viktor scenario.

“That’s what makes me awesome!” Phichit pumped his fist. “Oh, also sorry for saying that shit in the car. I dunno, I thought you guys would have been at a joking part of your relationship but I guess I was wrong. Also, I can tell Gru is  _ so _ in love with you, it’s not even funny.” 

“Oh my god. Did you just call Viktor that one guy from  _ Despicable Me _ ?” Yuuri tried hard not to laugh. He really did. 

“Yeah; it was a good movie! Other than the minions.” Phichit shuddered. “I don’t know why Seung-Gil is like obsessed with those big eyed yellow fucks. Like why do some of them have one eye and others don’t? Isn’t that like, I dunno, racism?” 

“Phichit, oh my god. What even.” 

“All I’m saying is that the one eyed ones are probably less liked and probably have less privileges. There’s also really few of them which is like racist.” 

“Stop.” 

Phichit guffawed. “Okay, okay, I’m done. Also, speaking of memes…” He thrust his phone back into Yuuri’s face again. Fortunately, Yuuri spotted that trick miles away and was able to swerve to the side to avoid being struck in the face with someone’s phone. It was another text post except this time, instead of on tumblr it was a message between Guang Hong and Phichit.

“‘Yuuri: I have really high standards. Viktor: breathes. Yuuri: Oh no, you’re meeting all my standards.’ Phichit, what the fuck is this?” Yuuri demanded. 

“I used that one meme but like a self insert. Except for you, not me.” Phichit shrugged casually as if he hadn’t just made Yuuri into a thirsty ass meme. Yuuri shook his head as he flopped back against the bed and hoped for someone to just end it all. 

When Phichit averted his attention back to his phone, Yuuri stared down at his left hand--the one Viktor kissed--with a fond smile. And if Yuuri kissed the small spot on his hand, tasted a bit of cherry chapstick, and sighed like a lovesick fool, Phichit didn’t have to know.

 

 

 


	4. weeping morning glories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Handjobs, an aquarium date, and relevations are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess what it's 5 am and I fucking did this bullshit again : )))) meaning i'm up again but it's like?? my fingers are possessed i swear because I cant stop typing up this story.... idk whats going on anymore so im really sorry???
> 
> unbetad as usual, possible ooc characters, and aLSO WHOOPS I GAVE IN TO MY THIRST AND ADDED SOME SMUT ahahahhHHAHAH i hate myself
> 
> there's like angst and it's not even good lmao so ?? enjoy ????

 

 

 

“ _Wise men say… Only fools rush in… But I can’t help falling in love with you…”_ Yuuri grumbled in his half awake state, hand shooting out to grapple at the annoying, buzzing device that sent his cheap bed in a frenzy. The sleepy male yawned as he blearily glared at the time and the person calling him. Because of his crap-tastic eyesight, Yuuri couldn’t pinpoint exactly who was calling him, just that the other person was about to face the wrath of an exhausted Yuuri.

“Hello?” He grumpily mumbled into the phone after accepting the call. The person on the other line breathily guffawed, prompting a light growl of irritation from Yuuri.

“Look, Leo, I’m usually, like all good and stuff with you calling me to go to school, but my teacher cancelled because of her depression _again_ and I’m pretty sure I remember telling you this yesterday when we were talking about Viktor.” Another chuckle aroused suspicion within Yuuri, and in the blank spaces of his befuddled mind, Yuuri suddenly realized that given the time it was and the fact that Leo most likely went on his regular breakfast diner dates with Guang Hong like the sappy “#goals” couple they were, the person on the other line was _not_ Leo.

“Oh god…” Yuuri breathed as he wrenched the phone away from his ear and tapped on the black screen of his phone to stare hopelessly at the screen. He squinted, trying to make out the squiggles that formed a very simple six letter name.

“ _Good morning, Yuuri! Or should I say, afternoon?_ ” Fucking _the_ Viktor Nikiforov--the one Phichit spazzed about with the rest of the “squad” and had Yuuri sputtering denials of the weird relationship between him and the Russian--greeted Yuuri on the other side with a poorly masked attempt to conceal his obvious amusement. Yuuri groaned in frustration, kneading his left palm into the crook of space between his nose and eye.

“Can you, um, just pretend you didn’t, like, hear all of that?” Yuuri tiredly pleaded. It was only about ten o’clock in the morning, but Yuuri binge watched two seasons of _The Office_ with Phichit the night before, so Yuuri only had about maybe three hours of sleep. He sighed. Also, he was trying to ignore the responsibilities of being an adult attending college, so he was currently procrastinating yet again on a paper for his history class that was due in about twenty one hours.

“ _Hmm, maybe. Only if you do something for me!”_ Viktor teased. His pretty laughter chimed into the air when Yuuri grunted a few choice words in Japanese. Even though Yuuri felt like an ambulance truck just careened over his head, blaring sirens and all, Viktor’s laughter still managed to rise his damper spirits.

“Only if it isn’t illegal.” Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Or maybe the blood rushing to his head from his tired body jerking himself up in a sitting position. Whatever it was, Yuuri didn’t feel like thinking of the way he usually acted; it was like a switch suddenly appeared so that his depression could finally control and steer the wheel of his brain. He kind of didn’t give a shit at the moment.

Viktor laughed in surprise. _“I mean, technically it could be.”_

“Oh, really? Try me. Nothing could be as worse as the one time Phichit got his ass thrown into jail because of a _meme_ and I had to bail him out with you. Remember that? That happened like last week.” Yuuri couldn’t contain the sass--he just wanted to crawl back under the covers and sleep for the next sixteen hours then spend five hours screaming in regret from procrastinating.

“ _Yuuri, my god. I should wake you up more often to see this side of you._ ” Viktor jokingly remarked.

“Try that and I’ll revoke your rights of being your friend.”

Viktor mock gasped, “ _Yuuri, you would never!”_ Yuuri hummed, a smile creeping on the horizon of his thin pressed lips. Viktor always did manage to crack a grin on his face.

“Don’t think I won’t, Viktor. I know you don’t like snakes and I will not hesitate to borrow the biggest one from the pet shop Phichit works at and put her in your apartment when you’re sleeping.”

“ _Yuuri!_ _That’s so harsh!_ ” Viktor whined, but he giggled straight afterwards. Yuuri shook his head fondly. He rolled his eyes and gave up on trying to maintain his posture when his body obviously protested against it. The raven haired male slumped back into the warm confines of his bed, pulling his duvet up to his chin. He yawned, listening to Viktor sigh blissfully.

“Is there a reason why you called me, Viktor?” He asked, a pleased note in his tone as his body sagged back onto the plush mattress. He thought he heard Viktor’s breath hitch, but he easily erased the thought when drowsiness settled back into his bones.

“ _Mmm, no reason,”_ Viktor’s soft voice serenaded Yuuri into a half slumber, _“I was just wondering if you were free today… And judging by what you said earlier, am I right to assume you are?_ ”

“Mhm,” Yuuri grumbled an affirmation. Viktor chuckled, the deep tones sending waves of chills down Yuuri’s back even in his sleepy daze. Yuuri shifted, his sheets rustling above him as he curled up into a tight ball and cushioned the phone off to the side. He barely pressed the speaker button before inching his nose down beneath the heat of his covers.

“ _Perfect! I can tell you’re tired, so we could meet up at three pm and go for dinner afterwards, if you’d like."_ Yuuri mumbled a confirmation, his brain already shutting down. Viktor made a confused noise and Yuuri could only imagine Viktor tilting his head to the side, puppy like, like he did whenever he was unsure. The image brought a giggle from Yuuri’s lips as his eyelids fluttered down.

“ _Yuuri? Are you still there?"_

“Mhm, I am. ‘M sleepy though…” Yuuri yawned again. “Sorry, I’ll see you at three, okay, Vicchan?” Yuuri swore he heard another sharp intake of breath from his counterpart, but his fuzzy mind was already on shutdown worse than a Windows 95. He didn’t bother to turn off his phone since he figured Viktor would grow bored of hearing Yuuri snore eventually and hang up for him.

 _“...Vicchan?_ ” Viktor murmured to himself in awe. Then, he softly laughed, “ _Oh, Yuuri, you’re such a….”_ Yuuri’s eyelids dragged him down into a deep, dark abyss of dreamless sleep before the brown eyed male could hear the rest of Viktor’s statement.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Yuuri woke with an abrupt start to the noise coming from outside his room--the front door specifically. The Japanese barely remembered the last of his conversation with Viktor--that wasn’t some dream, right?--but he did recall having agreed to meet up with the handsome man. With a start, Yuuri realized his current attire consisted only of a macaroni and cheese stained _Steven Universe_ t-shirt and a pair of his favorite music note boxers Seung-Gil gifted him for his last birthday. Yuuri screeched.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!” Yuuri cursed aloud as he scrambled to find a pair of decently clean pants so he could at least open the pounding door. And _damn,_  did Viktor have to be so _impatient?_  Yuuri dove for one of Phichit’s borrowed leggings--they were a big tighter around the thighs, but Yuuri could barely even think of his name when his anxiety spurned him on to go faster--and wrangled them on with a little bit of trouble. Thankfully, the pounding of his door stopped and the quiet reassured Yuuri’s quaking nerves a little.

“Coming, coming!” Yuuri called out as he stumbled his way out of his messy bedroom and into the hallway. He quickly picked up a few random pieces of trash littering the floor from when he and his roommate marathoned last night. In his haste to retrieve the trash and clean the area, Yuuri didn’t notice the small puddle of spilled water in the hallway until the very last moment, when he was already slipping and the world collapsed around him.

He tumbled to the ground in a heap of burning humiliation. The ground shook with him as he fell and a yelp of surprise echoed across the small flat. Instantly, a few more urgent knocks pounded against the beaten up front door as Yuuri lay in a puddle of water in the hallway, nearly inches away from where Viktor most likely stood. Oh god, this was so fucking embarrassing, Yuuri thought as he buried his face into his clammy hands and ignored the concerned calls from Viktor’s husky voice.

“I’m fine!” He finally hollered back. God, his face was burnt to a crisp from how much heat was harnessed inside his sweaty face. He tugged at the bottom of his dirty shirt to wipe at the sweat around his brow. Licking his lips, Yuuri nervously stumbled over to the front door with as much dignity he still had intact.

“I’m sorry, Viktor, I kind of, uh, overslept and slipped on a puddle Phichit made…” Yuuri couldn’t bear to meet Viktor’s inquiring gaze, so he turned his eyes to the ground and hoped he didn’t look as much of a mess as he felt. Viktor just kind of stood there for a few seconds. Yuuri backed away a little, awkwardly hovering around the front door as he wondered if he should actually stare at Viktor to be polite or to offer something for him to drink.

“Uh, Viktor, what’s--” Yuuri finally found the courage to face Viktor properly, but he was abruptly caught off with the absolutely _heated_ look Viktor was shooting him. Fire erupted inside his chest with just as much heat from Viktor’s eyes that invigorated his past sleepy self. Yuuri suddenly felt utterly naked, the barest drift washing over his prickled, exposed skin and through the thin material of his very, _very_ tight leggings.

“ _Yuuri_ ," Viktor’s nostrils flared as his fingers twitched. Yuuri froze with a deer-in-headlights expression on his face as he debated on whether or not to flee to his room and lock the door or allow this tension to seep into his bones, to rejuvenate him. It was exhilarating to catch the eye of someone so devilishly handsome and to have _Viktor_ gaze at him with half lidded eyes ignited a fiery passion that curled in the heating pools of his stomach and clung onto Yuuri’s midsection.

“Viktor,” Yuuri’s voice was not his own when he spoke. Confidence spiked from his pose as his form softened like an invite, a challenge. Viktor could not be any more happier to accept. When the door swung behind him, creaking its protest from its rough treatment and shutting the outside world from the duo, it was a sign of standing strong, enduring, and meeting the opponent face on.

Yuuri could not run. But then again, when Viktor’s stare blazed something both hot and icy into his lungs, why would he want to run? Why would he want to escape the lion’s den when he already knew he had the beast wrapped around his finger?

Viktor rose up first, delicately toeing off his shoes and lining the fancy wine red Dr. Martens boots next to Yuuri’s ratty, destroyed converse shoes. Yuuri gulped as he watched Viktor step forward, cross the division between the front door and into the house--into Yuuri’s personal space. Viktor carefully strode towards Yuuri with an elegance in his long legs and a model like pose as he stepped across the “runway” to reach Yuuri.

They were a little ways apart, yet Yuuri could still smell the same cologne and spicy cinnamon that enticed his tastebuds and spurned on something delectable and hungry inside Yuuri’s swirling stomach. Their breathing was the only sound inside the empty apartment. Yuuri’s heart pounded incessantly against his rib cage, but still, he did not make a move to touch the dream in front of him.

Cause there, in front of him, was a devastatingly gorgeous male with dipped cheekbones and carved collarbones and a thin dark blue sweater that clung to his wiry frame and outlined the structured chest. Tight jeans spiralled down his muscular thighs, his sculpted calves and wrinkled around his ankles in an artistic way. He wore regular gray socks that looked soft and costly, and when Yuuri’s eyes slowly traveled back up to Viktor’s pretty face, he flushed down to his toes.

Yet, here Yuuri was: a strange little man with soft curves and white stripes all across his thighs and his stomach. He was a stiff man, stout and thick and nothing like the model like figure Viktor appeared as. He wasn’t quite as insecure of his weight compared to when he was younger, but Yuuri did always still despise his stocky figure and his cowardly, feeble attitude. It was one thing to be something society didn’t like, but another thing entirely to be both pudgy _and_ unconfident. He wished to be like Viktor--spirited and determined and everything Yuuri _wasn’t._

He felt out of place, even in his own apartment. Viktor’s eyes never lost the luster of his heated gaze; Yuuri couldn’t begin to understand how someone like him was so appealing to Viktor. Well, Yuuri supposed he shouldn’t be thinking too much when he was still exposed in tight clothing and inches away from an awaiting Viktor.

“Sorry, I’ll just go change---” Yuuri informed the other. Viktor didn’t say anything, didn’t blink or move. Yuuri breathed out shakily as he turned his heel--turned his back to a predator--and began fast walking over back to his room. He pretended not to hear Viktor’s clothes rustle behind him or the wooden boards creaking behind him as the taller male stalked behind him. A thrill chased his anxieties down his spine as Yuuri abruptly halted in front of his open room and cocked his hip to one side.

Viktor gulped loudly behind him; Yuuri felt a surge of intoxicating excitement curl down to his toes at _his_ effect on the other male. The raven haired male slowly flipped around on his heel in a graceful way that he was taught by his old ballet teacher, Minako, all those years ago. Viktor’s eyes _smoldered_ with sultry fervor that cast tingles down Yuuri’s spinal cord. Yuuri swallowed down a thick glob of spit before he bravely faced the other male, even as Viktor edged closer and closer to him and their feet shuffled in a quiet dance on top of creaking wooden boards. Yuuri allowed Viktor to pin him up against the wall with intricate hands flowing gently down his sides like a waterfall.

Yuuri’s breath hitched into a soft gasp as Viktor gently thumbed at his lip, his eyes softening from its heated gaze and converting to something more intimate, more affectionate. The Japanese man breathed in an extra whiff of the cologne as Viktor softly pecked him on the forehead.

“If you don’t want to do anything further, we can stop.” Viktor reassured, his voice a mellow timbre that pierced something feral deep within Yuuri. He appreciated the kind gesture, but with his little to no past experiences with others and an even emptier book of past romantic relationships, Yuuri didn’t think he would mind relinquishing his reluctance and allowing himself to dabble around with his preferences with Viktor’s “help”.

He doesn’t know what comes over him, but he ends up listening intently to his heart and acting based off his desires. Before he can even properly think of the repercussions, Yuuri is tugging Viktor down to his height with handfuls of the soft, cashmere sweater and pressing their noses together. They’re only a few _centimeters_ away, breaths mingling into one like cigarette smoke.

“Don’t stop, Viktor.” Yuuri practically commands attention as he swoops in closer and relocates his soft grip on the back of Viktor’s hair, gripping onto the silver locks like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. Viktor growls, low in his throat, before his hands shoot out to grasp onto the flesh of Yuuri’s bottom, fingers smoothing down to seep between his thick thighs and lightly stroke him in his underwear.

Yuuri gasped breathlessly. He allows himself to be led over to his room before he’s pinned down onto the bed with a vivid strawberry hue painting down his neck to his chest. He’s aware of how unsavory he looks with a stained cartoon t-shirt so he quickly pulled it off and discarded it onto the mess of his ground. It’s a wonder Viktor didn’t immediately leave after entering his pig sty, but then again, Viktor somehow showed interest in _him_ so it was nice to know there was a least a little bit of attraction.

“God,” Viktor whispered as he fluttered back and forth, up and down from Yuuri’s pliant mouth to his beautiful, unmarked chest. The silver haired male sucked a fair bite in the crook of Yuuri’s neck; the male beneath him shuddered and gasped once more, the same crimson trailing down to sprout to his collarbones. Yuuri moaned lightly as his erection brushed against Viktor’s knee. Viktor caught a nipple between his lips before biting it gently and eliciting a sharp cry from Yuuri.

“ _You’re so beautiful, Yuuri…"_ Viktor murmured in Russian. Yuuri bucked his hips when Viktor pushed their groins together. It practically turned into dry humping as Yuuri wildly grinded back, pushing himself up to bury his teeth in Viktor’s shoulder and copying the other male’s movements. Viktor moaned, his breath hitched, his gasps wavered, and his voice trembled as he gently uttered Yuuri’s name--it was almost all too much.

“V-Viktor…” Yuuri groaned. He returned the favor in planting feverish kisses all across Viktor’s bare chest--when he stripped down, Yuuri had no idea for he was too entrapped within the throes of passion--and sucked hickies into his fair skin. Viktor was all too eager to permit Yuuri to mark him just as he did, if the panting and hazy, pleased gleam had anything to say. A blossoming emotion of adoration and pride stayed in his chest, even as Viktor shimmied his pants down and helped Yuuri to kick off the leggings with all too impatient hands.

Viktor must have had a thigh kink or something; Yuuri wondered if that was why Viktor sometimes strayed behind him. The thought that _Viktor_ of all people would be sexually attracted to his thicker parts beguiled Yuuri and caused him to grip a little tighter, a little more demanding for attention showered upon him by an all too willing Viktor.

He guided Viktor’s hands all across his smooth thighs, drank in the way Viktor’s eyes flared with a bewitched dazzle of his eyes. The Russian ducked his head down. He mouthed at Yuuri’s supple thighs, hands wandering all over the glorious thighs with artist hands and Yuuri was the clay Viktor was sculpting. Yuuri threw his head back when Viktor sucked harshly on the inside of his thigh, so unbearably close to Yuuri’s throbbing member that he nearly climaxed at that moment.

“You’re so beautiful, so good for me, Yuuri…” The Japanese man didn’t consider that he might have a praise kink, but when Viktor’s hands were all over his body, pinching at a nipple or skimming over his clothed dick, while whispering sweet words, Yuuri couldn’t help but feel thunder strike up his spine. He wiggled a little, a few begs rolling easily off his tongue like the filthy sayings belonged in his throat.

“ _Please,_  Viktor,” Yuuri panted as he frantically yanked off his boxers. Viktor’s awarding awe filled gaze was worth it when Yuuri lay naked, limbs tangling slightly in his blanket as he spread his legs a little more invitingly. Viktor groaned. He quickly tugged off his own briefs to reveal his proud, throbbing cock, flushed a light pink with precome dotting the head like little pearls. Yuuri licked his lips at the sight; he wished to feel the hot member in his mouth, to suckle on the man’s balls and run his fingers all across Viktor’s dick until he ejaculated.

The thought caused his own member to twitch in interest, an action Viktor noticed with a sleazy grin. His slim fingers tenderly stroked down Yuuri’s dick but never quite applied enough pressure for Yuuri to get off. Yuuri grunted, angrily shooting Viktor a glare when the other smugly grinned with his teeth. Yuuri narrowed his eyes at the other cocky male as he sat up; he found entirely too much satisfaction when he grabbed Viktor’s wrist and flung him gently onto the bed. He switched their positions so that the shorter male was on top, straddling Viktor’s thighs with a slight pant hanging out of his mouth.

“Don’t be such an asshole, Viktor.” Yuuri grit his teeth as he aggressively stroked up and down the other man’s perfect cock. Viktor moaned loudly, an excited gleam of his eye as he watched how Yuuri slot his thighs in between Viktor’s erect member. Their members lightly touched, forcing a thin hiss from both men at the irresistible feeling. Slowly, Yuuri rocked his penis against Viktor’s as he grabbed both of their dicks and slid them into his sweaty palm.

“So good,” Viktor murmured encouragingly, “you’re so good, Yuuri, my good boy.” Yuuri’s heart constricted at the compliment, his head tossed back to lewdly moan out Viktor’s name.

“V-Viktor,” Yuuri rocked his hips a little faster, the coil in his stomach beginning to bunch up until he was sure he would explode any minute, “a-ahh, oh, Viktor.” Yuuri mewled. His hands fondled both of their dicks as Viktor rocked up with him, eyes never leaving Yuuri’s.

“Viktor!” Yuuri screamed as he suddenly felt the edge of his climax appearing.

“Yuuri…” Viktor moaned lightly, hips snapping up and down uncontrollably.

“PHICHIT!” The sudden voice snapped the two out of their hazy sex and, to Yuuri’s fucking shame and humiliation, he _came_ just as soon as Phichit hollered out his own name. Viktor’s eyes widened as his eyes flickered between the sudden unannounced arrival to Yuuri’s dick _still_ splurting out semen like a fucking geyser.

“Oh my _god_.” Phichit spoke first, his eyes big as saucers. He gasped, eyes darting back and forth between his roommate sitting on top of an attractive male to the said attractive male with an impressive erection.

“Phichit.” Yuuri quietly muttered. Phichit gulped, instantly backing out.

“I’M SORRY! I THOUGHT YOU WERE JUST BY YOURSELF AND I WANTED TO LIKE SCARE YOU!”

“OH MY GOD, I DON’T _CARE,_ PHICHIT! JUST GET THE FUCK OUT!”

“YES, SIR!” Phichit sloppily saluted, blindly grabbed at the door knob of Yuuri’s bedroom door (after he flung it open; Yuuri nearly facepalmed when he realized he should have locked his room door), and flung the door behind him as he screeched something melodramatic like drinking the outdated bleach in the washing room.

Yuuri slumped down, ears tinted a very vivid red as he buried his face in his hands. He could still feel Viktor’s twitching dick tapping lightly against the inside of his thighs whenever Viktor breathed, and he didn’t know what was worse: the fact that Phichit cockblocked them or that he came embarrassingly fast just in time for Phichit to screech out his own name. Yuuri inwardly cursed his Thai roommate for being so fucking problematic.

“So,” Viktor broke the silence first, “are we going to continue this or should I borrow your bathroom?” The silver haired male’s eyes flitted across Yuuri’s adorable form. He smirked and chuckled when Yuuri shot him a warning glare that withered when he remembered exactly what just happened. He huffed, hands jerking up Viktor’s proud penis to shut him up. And shut him up he did.

By the time he was done with Viktor, the older man was panting heavily, chest heaving as he stared up at the ceiling. Yuuri may or may not had surrounded Viktor’s cock with his thighs and let Viktor thigh fuck him--which, _really,_ should have been illegal with the way Yuuri licked his lips seductively and whispered his own praises to Viktor. Yuuri’s thigh ended up sticky with white come, Viktor was entirely too proud of his mark on Yuuri’s beautiful thighs, and Yuuri debated on whether or not he wanted to kill himself or Phichit.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

After a quick shower--and Viktor somehow managed to coerce him into taking one together--with a few gropes and entirely too much making out, Yuuri emerged from the bathroom first, clean and refreshed from his recent sexual activities. Phichit’s face burned a little whenever he glanced up from the living room couch, but he didn’t say anything as Yuuri shot daggers into his friend’s head.

Yuuri dressed into an oversized sweater and Phichit’s leggings--which may or may not have been on purpose--before heading out of his room and passing by a humming Viktor. Only a towel covered his privates, and Viktor didn’t mind winking salaciously to Yuuri, his eyes lingering a little too long on the same damn leggings that led them to giving each other handjobs in the first place.

“Phichit, what the _fuck_?” Yuuri hissed through his teeth as soon as Viktor was out of earshot. Phichit flinched at his name, and though the blush didn’t quite stain his cheeks, the tips of his ears darkened with embarrassment. Phichit grinned sheepishly.

“I’m sorry, Yuuri!” Phichit pouted, jutting his lip out in his infamous puppy pout, “I was just messing around! Guang Hong dared me to barge in one day while you were whacking your meat--”

“Don’t call it that, oh my god.”

“--and I thought you were just doing the hanky panky--”

“ _What did I just say._ ”

“--you know, calling Viktor’s name loudly, so I just kind of barged in without thinking.” The dark male finished. He buried his head into Yuuri’s neck, whining pathetically and fixing his big brown eyes on Yuuri to beg for forgiveness. Yuuri melted; he was mainly in a cheerful mood after the refreshing session with Viktor, so he decided to forgive Phichit. His best friend may have been a little shit most of the time, but he knew his friend would always have his back no matter what.

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Yuuri sighed, patting Phichit’s head. Phichit beamed up at Yuuri, a photogenic smile appearing on his face. But, just as soon as he shot Yuuri a grateful look, Phichit’s face turned sly, his lips curled like a cat’s smug smile after knocking down every single vase and effectively smashing them on the ground. Yuuri eyed Phichit warily.

“What?”

Phichit snickered. “He really marked you up real good, Yuu.” The Thai male burst out in a fit of snorts and giggles as the blood drained from his friend’s face. His mien shifted over to a mortified limp as Yuuri proceeded to fold his body in half. He ignored the brief conversation between a delighted Phichit and concerned Viktor. God, he fucking hated life.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Yuuri forgave Viktor easily. It wasn’t like any of it was his fault anyway. Viktor still apologized for not locking the door, but Yuuri waved him away with a simple, “Phichit knows how to pick locks,” that effectively shut Viktor up. He still eyed Yuuri in curiosity, but the drained look on Yuuri’s face convinced him otherwise.

“So, where are you, um, taking me? If you don’t mind me asking?” Yuuri questioned as he sank back into the seat and hoped his face wasn’t resembling a juicy apple too much. Viktor hummed, his hand instantly clasping onto Yuuri’s as soon as he drove out into a main road. Yuuri’s mind was a jumbled mess. Between reflecting on his actions with enough shame to suffocate himself and pondering over the peculiar relationship he and Viktor shared, Yuuri didn’t really have time to think of where Viktor was taking him.

“It’s a surprise.” Viktor winked at him secretly. Yuuri resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He felt a little more comfortable with Viktor now--funny how nearly having penetrative sex can really loosen people up (pun intended)--to begin acting a little more like himself: sassy and motherly.

“Can you at least give me, like, a hint?” Yuuri quirked an eyebrow at his friend (?) and received a pearly white smile instead of an answer. He sighed. “Then, how long will it take to get there?”

“Just forty minutes.” Viktor jovially chirped. Yuuri smiled fondly, but directed his cheek to one side so that Viktor wouldn’t be able to see it. Too bad Viktor already did, and he was currently grinning ear to ear, cheeks straining from how long he had been smiling.

They switched topics like breathing, chatting about random subjects that filled the car with chatter and laughter. Time passed by quickly whenever Yuuri spent time with Viktor, he noted. He thought of the saying about time flying by whenever someone was having fun and easily deduced that he and Viktor applied to this particular saying.

By the time they arrived to the surprise location that Viktor chose, Yuuri was a little impressed as Viktor and he departed from the car and over to the entrance of the large aquarium. Not many people wandered the aquarium since it was a weekday, giving Yuuri a short breath of relief; obviously, he did not enjoy crowds or strangers in the first place, so being in a pretty open space with maybe five other people delighted him.

“Viktor…. It’s beautiful…” Yuuri said in awe. He tugged Viktor a little excitedly to one of the large tanks full of various exotic fish and other sea animal species. Yuuri missed the warm hearted beam Viktor as their hands never separated and Viktor was forced to jog lightly to keep up with Yuuri’s zealous pace. Yuuri pointed at all the fish, oohing and aahing in an uncharacteristic manner as he excitedly yanked at Viktor’s arm for his attention.

“I’ve never been to an aquarium before.” Yuuri admitted as they walked side by side, slowly gazing at the beautiful blue colors of the clear water. Admiration glittered in his eyes, the bright lights emitting from the tanks gathering inside of Yuuri’s beautiful chocolate eyes. When he was happy, his eyes changed to a lighter brown, almost bordering a mahogany red with how the light gleamed in the swirl of galaxies within his gaze.

Surrounded by colorful fish in tanks ten times their size, Yuuri was absolutely breathtaking. Yuuri babbled a little more on his love for the ocean and water before leading the way once more to the area with jellyfishes. Yuuri shrilly gasped at his favorite sea creature, gesturing wildly with his free arm as he spouted out random jellyfish facts. All the while, Viktor watched in equal amounts of love and amusement.

“--jellyfish don’t have brains and a group of them is called a bloom, swarm or smack!” Yuuri burst out with starry eyes. He didn’t quite look at Viktor the whole time they were in the aquarium, so when he finally swung his head over to catch Viktor’s eye, Yuuri did _not_ expect the scene before him.

“Isn’t that so cool?! Right, Vi--” Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat. He felt another goddamn blush hike up to the apple of his cheeks as he stared into Viktor’s expressive blue eyes, rippling with emotion like a light disturbance in a pool of water. “--ktor…”

Yuuri was tugged a little closer to Viktor until their chests nearly touched each other. His heart resounded in his ears with a clear cut sound as clean as a grand piano. Viktor’s gentle fingers tilted his chin up so their eyes could meet, and he let him, let him guide his chin so they could connect like puzzle pieces. Their mouths slotted together oh so perfectly that Yuuri’s heart clenched painfully. The air in his lungs sighed out, lovestruck, as he breathed in Viktor’s existence and captured the moment within the lens of his brain. When they separated once more, Yuuri’s forehead nearly stuck to Viktor’s as they panted an addicting smoke of dreamy nicotine into each other’s mouth, Yuuri quieted down.

He was still very much enthusiastic about the aquarium, but every time he pointed out the diverse species within the tank, he could clearly see the glass reflect his and Viktor’s figures. And every time his eyes wandered over to Viktor’s mirror reflection--swaying with the push and pull of water or surrounded by bubbles and flowery fish--he always, _always_ found Viktor staring fondly at him, eyes refusing to leave the back of Yuuri’s head with the same beautiful smile stretched on his lips.

The pure adoration in his eyes, following him even ( _especially_ ) as Yuuri spun around to pretend he didn’t catch Viktor staring solely at him, ensnared Yuuri bit by bit. He didn’t think it was anything like _love_ (he didn’t want to get way too ahead of himself), but it was something so painfully, gut wrenchingly close. And dammit, did Yuuri _wish_ it was true.

Was he reading too much into this? Was he setting his hopes too high like Icarus: destined to plummet to the waters of Viktor’s eyes? To succumb himself to the interesting relationship they had? Yuuri didn’t know. He didn’t know, and the thought terrified him.

“Viktor, look!” Yuuri exclaimed as he tried (and failed) to direct Viktor’s attention over to the gigantic sharks. Many of them slumbered on the sand deep below the viewing glass; their bodies swayed a little back and forth with the current of the moving water, and Yuuri grew a little more enamored when one of them lazily sailed across the stretch of the glass. Its gills puffed in and out, much to Yuuri’s joy, while the shark’s tail moved side to side like a cat’s swishing tail.

He pretended he didn’t notice how Viktor’s eyes softened in his reflection, how Viktor stepped a tad bit closer until his back was nearly pressed up against the other’s chest. Yuuri ogled the sharks with a childlike innocence, pointedly staring down to avoid Viktor’s eyes. The shorter male flinched a little when arm arms encased him in an embrace, but didn’t wriggle his way out of the hug. He smiled tenderly as Viktor’s arms rested around his midsection.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, _love._ ” Viktor muttered into Yuuri’s hair. He kissed the crown of black strands, nose nuzzling against the top of the shorter male’s heads. Viktor grinned before tucking his chin on top of Yuuri’s head. The couple watched the sharks drift around the tank for a little longer to preserve the serene scene before them. Yuuri sighed dreamily as he melted back against Viktor’s chest, his heart soaring when Viktor shifted his head to plant a sweet kiss on his cheek.

“Thanks for taking me out, Viktor.” Yuuri expressed his gratitude with a toothy grin; he was gradually becoming accustomed to Viktor’s presence, and the fact that Viktor was an insanely attractive, benevolent, friendly man also helped his cause. Yuuri would forever be grateful to Viktor for paying his best friend’s bail, picking him up from a faded, rundown bowling alley, and cooking him breakfast the morning after. It was entirely too kind for a stranger like Viktor to aid him during those times, and that was why he enjoyed the other’s presence and adapted to him much quicker.

He ignored the pestering thoughts of “ _What are we?”_ and _“Soon, he’ll be off with another client; he’ll forget me and I’ll be nothing but another distant memory to him…"_  He disregarded all his negative thoughts, only for this one time, when he could dream about his life with Viktor. This would all be a dream, and by the time the clock struck midnight, Yuuri would accept that he would never truly be able to have Viktor’s heart.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

_“I’m sorry… I won’t be able to see you for a while.” Viktor sadly said as they stood close to the entrance of the aquarium. Yuuri’s heart wound into a tight ball; it was a pinch of reality and he realized just how soon Cinderella’s ball ended while he and Viktor strode down the peaceful halls of the humongous tourist attraction._

_“That’s okay,” Yuuri lied with a forced upturn of his lips, “go do your job.” He sucked in his protests and the pain, of the yearning inside his heart that reached out with outstretched arms to collect Viktor back into his arms. Instead, Yuuri stepped back, feet unsteady, as he tore his hands out of Viktor’s heated palms. Viktor’s lips pressed into a thin line._

_“I’m sorry.” Viktor repeated. Yuuri just shook his head, recited the mantra of “it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” and stuffed his clenched fists into the pockets outside of his jacket. The November chill from outside could even be experienced within the aquarium. The heater was on, yet Yuuri’s heart encased itself in a case of ice and lies._

_“I’ll see you when I get back, won’t I?” Yuuri soothed. Viktor reluctantly bobbed his head up and down. His own artificial smile returned full force as Viktor copied Yuuri’s actions and stepped back a little. The distance between them resembled a mile and Viktor was the finish line. Yuuri breathed in a sob. He knew it was better than to hope. He knew it was much much better to return to his mundane life of eating, sleeping, and procrastinating. He was always better at running away from his problems, and this would neither be his first or last time he would escape._

_“Of course, Yuuri.” Viktor solemnly promised. His arms raised up in a silent request for an embrace, but Yuuri coldly turned his shoulder. No point in flying any higher, Icarus, he bitterly mused._

_“Thank you for spending time with me today.” Yuuri stiffly thanked. A flash of hurt revealed itself in Viktor’s eyes before he shut the iron gates to his emotions. They were both good at those things: hiding and escaping. Yuuri smiled. It was unnatural, a forgery of lies that sewed his mouth shut._

_“Anytime. Yuuri, I--” The announcement speakers suddenly dinged, interrupting whatever important message Viktor had. The duo stared up at the overhead speakers as the announcer proclaimed that the aquarium would be closing in five minutes. Yuuri mechanically checked his phone for any new notifications and for the time: (1) Missed Call From Phichit; 6:55pm._

_“I think I should be heading back now.” Yuuri nodded respectfully to Viktor. “If you have time tomorrow, I have something I want to drop off at your house.” Casual, polite; he needed to hold it together for another five minutes before he could hitch a ride home on the bus and tiredly throw himself into bed. Oh yeah, and the essay he had to write was pretty important too._

_“I’ll be sure to make free time for you.” Viktor tilted his head to one side, his bangs flowing down to cover one and a half eyes. “What time were you planning on coming over?”_

_“Maybe 3 pm? My last class ends at 2:30, so I’ll head over to your house and drop off the thing.”_

_“Alright.” Viktor hesitated, but Yuuri didn’t want to stand here for any longer. He was afraid that he would plunge down further into the dark hole of his anxiety and depression. His heart still thudded painfully against his chest, which was a clear indication to leave as soon as possible. Yuuri managed a true smile, exhausted as it was, and pushed forward to stand an inch away from Viktor. He brushed Viktor’s bangs out of his eyes--a fruitless effort, really, because Viktor’s bangs just hung on top of his eye like the moon above a tranquil lake--with trembling fingers._

_One more time, he thought. This would be the last time he could delude himself into thinking they had a future before he could promptly let go. Yes, he would move on. They could still be friends, but the thought of someone else holding Viktor, fake or not, would always wrench something awful in Yuuri’s stomach. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to stand it, so it would be better to maintain a friendly relationship that never bordered past platonic._

_“Goodbye, Viktor.” It was a dramatic farewell, but he was mainly saying it to the Viktor in his dreams. Viktor nodded slowly, a look of longing evident in his clear blue eyes. One side of Yuuri’s cheek lifted once, then he backed away and turned on his heel and never looked back._

_Maybe he was being too emotional or pessimistic. Maybe they could have worked out. But, Yuuri was a coward. He was deathly afraid of growing too attached and that the day Viktor would find someone else would tear the rest of his tiny self confidence._

_If Yuuri allowed Viktor that power over him, he would never be able to recover._

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Yuuri returned home after a stressful bus ride home. He didn’t exactly cry aloud, but a few tears did manage to escape past his guarded eyes. He tried to reason with himself, tried to understand exactly why Viktor meant so much to him. Yes, time flew by and it was nearly the end of the fall semester for college and yes, Yuuri only knew Viktor for about three months. Yet, why did he desire nothing more than to clutch onto Viktor, to kiss him until they were both breathless, to hold and to be held, and to wake up in the morning with the other by his side?

Yuuri banged his head against his pillow. It was currently 7:34am, and Yuuri barely managed to turn his history research paper in on time. His first class (history) began in an hour and his professor expected all of his students to turn in their papers before class started. Fortunately, Phichit had some leftover 5-hour energies from the last time he procrastinated and ended up not sleeping for 36 hours in order to finish a huge art project.

The Japanese male groaned. His brain was plagued with the last date with Viktor. He couldn’t stop imagining the dreamy glint of Viktor’s eyes, of the affection sparkling in crystal eyes and shining brighter than any polished gem. Yuuri whined into his pillow, grateful that Phichit actually helped him clean his sheets. If he could even catch a whiff of Viktor’s scent, he would be pining even harder no doubt.

Yuuri shook his head quickly. He jumped out of bed to shower, then get dressed. When he padded out of his room, he noticed the light of the television painting the walls in a bright whitish-blue with a few flickering moments. Yuuri furrowed his eyebrows.

“Phichit?” He softly called out. The other male swiveled his head over to meet Yuuri’s inquisitive eyes, a weary smile on his mouth as he waved lazily at his friend.

“Insomnia,” Phichit explained as he turned back to the television set. Yuuri nodded in comprehension. He shot his roommate an empathetic smile before heading back over to the bathroom for a rejuvenating shower. Exhaustion hung on his shoulders like weights, but he endured under the hot steam of the water and the inviting heat of slumber.

After dressing into something relatively cleaner, Yuuri dragged his feet to the kitchen to fix himself a proper breakfast: cereal. He chewed on his cinnamon toast crunch in silence, eyes fixated on a random crack in the kitchen wall that looked a lot like Goofy’s head. The thought drew out a snort from his nose. Phichit really was rubbing off on him.

“Was the date good?” Phichit sat down across from the table. The wooden chair screeched awfully against the tiled floor, but neither men flinched. They were all too accustomed with the shitty minor details of their cheap apartment.

Yuuri nodded around a mouthful of cereal. He swallowed, then replied, “Yeah, it was nice. He took me to an aquarium.”

Phichit whistled. “Fancy. My first date with Seung-Gil was at his family’s restaurant. It was still good though, but his family kept teasing Seung-Gil the whole time so...” He shrugged before tipping his chair back. It wobbled precariously in the air, yet that never seemed to deter Phichit; he always liked to tiptoe on the edge of danger.

“I don’t know, Phichit. Viktor works for a company that’s basically a cheaper alternative to a host.” Yuuri worried his bottom lip between blunt teeth. “I don’t think it would have worked out for us.”

“Really?” Phichit rose a thick eyebrow. After a few tense minutes of scrutiny, Phichit shrugged again. “Sure, if that’s what you feel like doing.” Yuuri blinked in shock. Typically, his roommate would continue pressing on for details. He would usually attempt to persuade Yuuri to be more open-minded, to be more positive about himself instead of letting his mental illnesses trample all over him. This time, Phichit merely shrugged and didn’t bother.

“That’s all? You’re not going to say anything about how I could make it work with Viktor?” Yuuri found the whole situation weird. Maybe he was finally hallucinating after the all nighter he just pulled?

“I mean, I could if you want. But, I don’t know. I can see where you’re coming from and frankly enough, I don’t think your mental illnesses and Viktor’s job would get along well.” Phichit pointed out.

“Yeah…” Yuuri nodded slowly. That made a lot of sense. It was rational and realistic, even if Yuuri’s heart wrenched to and fro around his chest. “Anyway, I was planning on getting him like some sort of plant to kind of make up for all the stuff he had to put up while hanging out with me.”

“Is that a good idea?” Phichit backtracked, “I mean, don’t get me wrong. He saved my beautiful behind and all, but like? Would you or him grow a little more attached?”

Yuuri peered at Phichit oddly. “From a plant, Phichit?” He highly doubted either him or Viktor would be desperate enough for love to fall from someone giving them a _plant_ of all things. Maybe if it was katsudon, Yuuri would consider it.

Phichit shrugged. “People are eccentric, Yuuri.”

“No, just you.” Yuuri corrected in a teasing manner. Phichit rolled his eyes, but smiled anyway.

“Well, I guess if he’s always busy, maybe a cactus?” Phichit suggested.

“Yeah… I guess that makes sense.” Yuuri finished the last of his cereal. He checked the time on his phone one last time before setting his dirty bowl into the sink. The spoon clattered inside the dish still half submerged with milk. Yuuri pocketed his phone in his jeans before waving at Phichit. He dangled the house keys from his fingers as Yuuri double checked his belongings inside his backpack before heading out.

“I’ll see you later, Phichit.”

“Don’t get hit by a bus!” Phichit yelped back as the door shut behind him. Yuuri hurriedly locked up before setting off to his first destination: the quaint flower shop down the street. He pushed away all thoughts of Viktor while on his stroll to the shop, opting to think about what he would have for dinner tonight and resolving to buy healthier options from the grocery store. When he arrived at the flower shop, bell dinging to reveal his presence, Yuuri nervously glanced around.

He had never been in the shop before, but Guang Hong promised him it was owned by a kind older lady and her daughter. Yuuri gulped down his anxiety and stress as he wandered aimlessly around the aisles of various plant life. He eyed the crimson roses from the corner of his eyes for a second before hastily switching his attention back to the potted cacti in a neat line on a shelf.

Yuuri picked up a cactus with a budding flower in the middle, pink as fruit punch and lines with a few small thorns. He brought the cactus off from its proud perch on the shelf and gently placed it on the cashier’s counter. The elderly old lady held a pretty, friendly smile undeterred by old age. She complimented him on his choice of cactus (“They stand for endurance. May the person who receives this gift love you through the hardships you hold together.” Yuuri promptly choked at the all knowing gleam in her eye) before packing it up cozily into a white bag with the shop’s name on it in fancy lettering.

“Have a nice day! And good luck with your love troubles!” Yuuri swore to never step foot into the shop ever again. He turned on his phone to look for the time; once he found he still had a little bit of time before he needed to be in school--he even checked his school email and of course, his teacher delayed the class due to some technical difficulties, but was too tightly strung to cancel the class--so he decided to drop by Viktor’s house real quick.

The raven haired male critically examined the milky white sky above his head. The clouds were dipped in murky white paint water so it was difficult to differentiate between sky and clouds. Yuuri shivered lightly in his jacket, burying his frozen nose further into his dark green scarf. He shared a brief nod with the person behind the check in counter who, to Yuuri’s chagrin, always threw him a knowing wink whenever he passed. This time, the person did not wink at him.

As the elevator rose up to the tenth floor, Yuuri stared down at his bag. Phichit’s words echoed inside his brain and he shuffled his feet a little anxiously. The elevator chimed at his arrival on the floor, and the coldness from the winter managed to sneak into the apartment complex. Yuuri trembled again. He rapped his white knuckles against the door twice while shifting the weight across both feet in an antsy habit of his.

The door creaked open ominously, and instead of a familiar silver haired man with warm blue eyes, a complete stranger Yuuri had never seen before stood before him. The other person was not shy in the slightest--in fact, they wore no shirt and the black briefs did little to help their case. The stranger was beautiful, held in the same regards as Viktor as they blinked long, thick eyelashes that fanned across his cheeks. Their hair was a sandy blond cut over a dark undercut and their eyes bright peridots outlined with black lashes.

Yuuri blinked, eyes surveying the area to ensure he was in the right place. _Yes, you are,_ his traitorous brain hissed.

“Uh…”

“Can I help you?” The other person arched a fine eyebrow.

“Uh… This is for, um, Viktor.” Yuuri thrust the bag to the gorgeous stranger. The other person smiled bemusedly as they plucked the strings of the white paper bag from Yuuri’s trembling fingers.

“I’ll make sure to give it to him.” The stranger promised, adding a fine wink to Yuuri. “

“Chris, who is that?” Chris turned their head back around.

“Just some messenger boy! I’ll be back soon!”

“Just hurry up!” Viktor called out impatiently. The sinking feeling in his stomach dropped down to his feet.Yuuri’s gut clenched into a tight ball of nerves as he jerked back, as if struck by the handsome stranger before him. He somehow was able to lift his frozen feet after thanking the other person stiffly, a feeling of lost hope crushing his heart into itty bitty pieces. The brown eyed male exited the building with a dazed expression on his face, wondering if he was still asleep in bed and he would wake up any moment from the alarm.

Nothing came. Yuuri blinked as the sun appeared from out of a thin veil of cloud, eerily sunny for a day so late in November. The man wandered over to the bus stop, dropped down onto the seat with unfeeling legs, and stared down at the grave pavement under his feet.

He remembered the cafe, he remembered Viktor’s apartment, and more importantly, he remembered the aquarium. The last memory pained him the most: he really thought someone like Viktor felt _something_ for him. He almost wanted to snort sarcastically out loud. Even if his heart was slowly tearing into pieces and the sunlight betrayed his stormy emotions, Yuuri’s tears did not budge past his eyes.

He looked up when a pair of wheels slid in next to the sidewalk, a friendly smile on the bus driver’s face. Yuuri boarded the bus with little difficulty and slowly slid down into an empty seat. Other than himself, the bus driver, and another slumbering passenger, the bus held no other company. Yuuri strained his eyes against the vividly bright sunlight reflecting on the sidewalks and the roads outside of the moving bus. They tumbled along, bringing in new passengers and leaving behind old ones.

Yuuri’s eyes never left the window, though. His eyes were glued to the outside world, so bright and sunny while he lingered inside the shadows of the bus and refused to budge even when his stop appeared. He traveled until the last stop of the line, and the bus driver must have sensed the somber mood and the black cloak of death draped over Yuuri for she allowed him to stay while she went on a break.

Finally, when Yuuri was truly alone did he begin to silently sob.

 

 

 


	5. a gentle aborvitae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri mopes, nearly gets into a fight with some angsty emo kid over jam of all things, has a heart to heart, bonds with friends, and dreads the next "friendly" gathering with the rest of his "squad".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok ok im sorry like this is still unbetad and i'll go back to check to see if everything is okay
> 
> however i'm not sorry for having ur faves be trans :^))) ur gonna have to beat me to death with my own severed arm cradling these trans characters to my chest before i relinquish my hold on them :^ ))) come @me noob scrubs
> 
> i also changed like the pronouns for yurio in chapter 2 bc i forgot... i headcanon yuuri to like use they/them pronouns w/ everyone before meeting them so he doesn't automatically assume someone's gender based off of their appearance :000 he's a kind bean let him live ALSO LET HIM CUSS AND BE ANGRY LIKE I KNOW IM BAD AT STAYING IN CHARACTER BUT CMON HE'S BEEN ANGRY BEFORE LET MY SON BE FREE
> 
> uh idk what else to say other than??? there's like a light bit of angst then like pov switching at the very end. that's it. it's at the very end tho so ??? it's not as annoying i guess
> 
> ALSO I REALLY TRIED FOR THIS TO BE AT LEAST ENJOYABLE IM SORRY ABOUT THE POORLY WRITTEN ANGST AND EVEN MORE POORLY WRITTEN HUMOR I JUST WRITE WHAT'S FUNNY TO ME AND IDK I DON'T THINK IM THAT FUNNY SO ??? enjoy frIE NDS

 

 

 

“Yuuri,” Phichit called out in distress, lightly knocking on the door leading to Yuuri’s room, “please come out. Usually I would be joking about you coming out of the closet and all that jazz, but I’m seriously worried about you. You haven’t come out for the past five days after the whole cactus debacle.” Yuuri ignored his friend’s words as he buried his head further into his pillow to the point of suffocation.

He didn’t want to think of anything, didn’t even bother to check his phone for any sort of possible text on his phone. Yuuri refused to budge from his bed, from under his covers even if the world decided to self destruct soon. He didn’t want to remember any of the past week; he feared his strong attachment to Viktor would rise up like the tide to gulp him down into the dark abyss. He would suffocate to death, but at least he would be drowning in a serene background.

Phichit grew quiet. The Thai man strayed by the door before sighing loudly. “If you ever want to talk, I’m here. You’re not alone, Yuuri; a lot of people are worrying about you.” When he received no response, Phichit sighed again, stepped back and away from the door emanating death, and strode away with socked feet. When his roommate’s footsteps creaked in a different part of the house, Yuuri finally popped his head out of his cocoon of blanket with a guilty frown. He didn’t mean to worry his friends, but he just wasn’t ready yet to face his fears.

The blankets surrounding his form comforted him and spoiled him; he desired nothing more than to curl up in his bed and rot away forever. Anything--anything to forget the dreamy week he experienced. It was like dissociating with his soul out of his body as he watched the week fly by without truly feeling it was  _ him  _ experiencing it. No, it was some stranger who possessed his being, who encountered Viktor, stole his breath, and kissed the other until they were both breathless. It was not plain, boring Yuuri who captivated Viktor. 

“I’m sorry, Phichit…” He whispered to the stale air. He knew he reeked of a pungent odor from laying in his sweat and tears (which in an airtight heated blanket, would naturally  _ cook  _ the smell until it was nearly unbearable) for the past five days. He knew he needed to rise up from his defeated form, to conquer his self doubt and hatred in order to move on from  _ Viktor _ . 

However, Yuuri loved his time with Viktor too much to separate himself from the fantasy he entwined himself into. This was not fiction. This was not some gross romcom movie that would dictate his actions until he landed himself a happily ever after (even as much as he wished for it). This was  _ reality,  _ and Yuuri needed to seek out help from his supportive friends and family instead of moping around inside his metaphorical coffin (though with how his room seemed to already radiate the dead, it may as well have been a physical one).

Well, one step at a time, he reminded himself firmly. Yuuri gulped before skirting his fingers timidly towards his phone, not quite touching it as he tapped the screen. He hadn’t bothered to shut down the device while in his sorrowful musing state, but at least he had the decency to plug in the smartphone. 

_ 9:05pm; Sunday, November 19th, 2023,  _ Yuuri’s phone read in thick white blocks. He blinked. So five days really did pass by… He sighed when he noticed the numerous notifications from his friends, and about three missed calls from his family. Even Mari texted him, a surprise really since she rarely texted him unless there was an emergency. She preferred to speak face to face instead of over a cellular device and both his parents did not have an affinity nor knowledge to correctly use any sort of technology (other than the television in the hot springs). 

Yuuri skimmed down his missed calls and texts, his heart pounding gently at how his friends cared about him. A part of him wondered if Viktor would text him, but he quickly shoved that thought out of his head before he could begin crying again. Already, his eyes stung with prickling tears--kind of like the thorns of a cactus, of the cactus Yuuri gifted Viktor and a bitter side of him wondered if that Chris even gave it to Viktor. Yuuri shook his head. His heart thumped rapidly despite his protesting thoughts, but a sick, twisted part of him hoped Viktor left him a message: a thanks maybe or even a simple “take care” would have done.

When he reached the bottom of his notifications, his stomach plummeted to his dirty bedroom floor. Yuuri cursed himself for even wishing for a text or call from Viktor when he already knew the handsome Russian was working with a new client.  _ You could have been that client, you fool,  _ Yuuri’s masochistic side whispered to him, and he batted the thought away with bloodied knuckles. 

_ No,  _ he grit his teeth as a shot of pain fluidly struck at his heart,  _ then I would have never been able to let go _ . Yuuri tossed his phone carelessly to the side; it clattered onto his nightstand adjacent to his mattress with a noisy clang, but he didn’t bother checking it. He flopped back down onto his bed with his face turned up towards the ceiling. No light tainted the quiet darkness of his room, sans from a few roaming car lights seeping in through his tattered blinds and the light from the living room that didn’t dare to reach the confines of his deathly room.

After a few moments of pondering--which turned out to be an extra four hours--and tossing restlessly side to side on his blankets, Yuuri huffed irritably and rose up from his lying position. His mind was more than a jumbled mess and resembling more and more like the untameable knots Vicchan sometimes had when he wasn’t properly combed. 

On woobly feet, Yuuri crossed his room, dug through his closet for clean clothes, and emerged from his room with a pair of clean boxers. He tiptoed past a pensive Phichit, who was clutching onto his phone like a lifeline with pale, stretched out fingers. He seemed to be in a deep conversation with someone on the other line, judging by the quiet murmurings that enveloped over the buzz of the television. Using only the light from the tv show, Yuuri managed to slide into the bathroom with little difficulty and shut the door quietly behind him. 

When the lights hazily blinked on, he nearly reeled back in shock from the reflection of his terrible demeanor. Yuuri gaped, the clone reflected across sharp glass mirroring his actions. He slowly and tenderly touched the enormous bags under his eyes; they were a tinge of both bruised blue and splotchy pink due to his lack of sleep and uncontrollable crying. The mop of oily hair on top of his lean face belonged as a part of a rat’s nest instead of hair atop his head. Complete with his blotchy scarlet face and the sweat stained t-shirt he wore, Yuuri was definitely a character straight out of a horror movie. Or one of those angsty chick flicks when the protagonist was harshly dumped by her ex before she would find a more suitable match.

The most shocking thing to Yuuri, however, was the fact that he appeared less chunky and more lean. His belly still protruded slightly from the tight t-shirt he wore, but it was more defined and less circular. He was by no means overweight, but he always packed a slight belly matching his parents. Instead of the usual curve (like a parabola) of his stomach, he was greeted with the sight of a tinier tummy that could actually be sucked into a smooth line if he held his breath. 

Regardless, Yuuri was still shocked of how altered his physical comportment changed to in the span of five despairing days, but it seemed about right. While trapping himself inside his bedroom, he barely ate anything other than a few crackers he had stowed away in one of his desk drawers. Even when he drank, he only truly finished two water bottles on the first day of his continuous sobbing into his pillow. 

Yuuri sighed and tore his eyes away from the stranger in front of him. He waddled unstably towards the shower and decided to ponder over his new mien at a different time, when his stench wasn’t worse than skunk spray. The hot water helped to unclog his mind of unsavvy thoughts polluting his fatigued mind and with the ocean spray scented soap and strawberry hair products, both his troubling opinions and the filth cultivating on his skin ran down the drain. 

And because he abandoned rational thought long ago, back before he met Viktor, Yuuri decided the next best course of action would be to dress warmly and leave the house for fresh air. In retrospect, maybe disappearing from the house without informing his roommate of his presence to visit the Walmart five minutes away in single digit weather wasn’t  _ such  _ a good idea. But in Yuuri’s defense, he was craving something sweet and toast with strawberry jam suddenly sounded tastier than god’s dick.

Unfortunately, his apartment lacked basic food necessities, so Yuuri didn’t have the proper items for his craving. So, in a pair of thin jeans tucked into ankle boots and a large sweater over his body, Yuuri began the drive to the closest Walmart in his broken down car, courtesy of his phone’s google maps. When the familiar blue roofed supermarket department store (whatever it was) approached closer, Yuuri’s frigid lips pulled up into a stiff smile. His frozen icicles for hair tickled his rosy cheeks as he hurried into the heated 24/7 store.

Once the heat sufficiently warmed his body and his fingers were less like frozen fish sticks, Yuuri hummed lightly to himself as he wandered over to the food section and down over to the aisle with the jams and jellies. Because of the odd time of day and disagreeable weather, few people littered the store, leaving Yuuri in a small Walmart with two underpaid cashiers on their smartphones. He liked the ambiance of the quiet store. Other than his shuffling feet and the light pop music on the overhead speakers, Yuuri was alone, and he enjoyed the solitude more than he should have.

His eyes lit up at the sight of the last remaining jar of strawberry jam, perched a little ways above his head and teetering dangerously close to the edge of the shelf. He stretched his arm to reach for the jam and for a solid, satisfactory second, the jar slotted perfectly in the palm of his hand. However, just as he reached for the last strawberry jam, another arm shot out in an identical position. The person’s hand was pale with blunt, long nails and a soft smoothness to it that Yuuri lost in his calloused hands long ago because of dishwashing without gloves.

“Um,” Yuuri, due to his height advantage, plucked the jam jar from the other’s grasp and clutched it to his chest. When he turned his cheek to stare at the other person and firmly tell the other he was there  _ first,  _ his eyes widened at the stranger who wasn’t as unfamiliar as he expected. 

The person who stood before him was the  _ same  _ angry, angsty teenager he accidentally bumped into at the park the day Viktor brought him back to the apartment. And wow, everything just  _ had  _ to lead back to Viktor, didn’t it? Yuuri inwardly groaned in displeasure as the familiar downturn of the teenager’s lips greeted him. 

“It’s you again.” The long haired blond stated matter-of-factly. This was okay. This, Yuuri could handle with. It was only if the younger one began snarling at him and raising his voice above an inside one that Yuuri would probably begin breaking down and shivering in his shoes. Well, with how furrowed the other’s eyebrows were and the annoyed gleam of their narrowed eyes, Yuuri would most likely have to deal with a hormonal teenager with an anger management problem.

“I need that.” They jut their chin out, a blatant challenge daring for Yuuri to take. Yuuri guarded the jam behind his arms as he politely smiled. 

“Well, so do I. I’m sorry, but I was here first.” He refused to back down to some  _ child  _ who thought they world revolved around them. Well, tough luck, kiddo. Yuuri didn’t fuck around with food, and after being cooped up in his room with death knocking on his door, he wasn’t about to go down without a  _ fight _ . And judging by how tense the other’s shoulders were and the way they lowered their body slightly to spring up and attack Yuuri, a fight was not as unprecedented as he thought.

“Yeah? Well I reached for it at the same time as you,  _ pig _ .” Yuuri’s polite smile nearly snapped off from the insult. Wow, rude much? Were all kids rude these days or was it just this unruly lost teenager? 

“I’m sorry that the world doesn’t fucking revolve around you,  _ kiddo _ .” Yuuri snapped. “But since I got it  _ first _ and I just got out of an emotional slump, I think I fucking deserve this jam. Now, back  _ off  _ before I call the police to report a missing child.” 

The strange child looked a bit impressed for a second--and really, could Yuuri blame him? Yuuri wasn’t exactly the definition of dangerous or threatening--before the same wild look returned to their gaze. They inched closer to Yuuri, head still lowered with the hood over their long hair moving back against their head with the other’s movements. Before Yuuri could even think to turn on his heel and run out of the store, the younger already moved to strike.

A fist barely grazed Yuuri’s face as it shot out at an insane speed to lodge into his chin. Luckily, Yuuri predicted the teenager’s movements so he was able to swerve to the left in time before a nasty bruise blossomed from the mean right hook. Yuuri narrowed his eyes as he hunched his back a little and spread his feet a little more. If he was going to get into a fucking fist fight with a middle schooler in Walmart at 1 am, then so fucking be it.

“Look, kiddo, I’m not in the most stable of moods right now. So, back down before I fucking  _ cream  _ your stick thin ass.” 

“Real funny coming from an old geezer about to break a hip.” The other cracked their knuckles. “Hand over the jam before I shove a jar of pickles up your ass.” 

“I would offer to do the same, but you have a stick so far up your ass that I don’t have to.” Yuuri quipped back dryly. The teenager’s eyes narrowed into cat-like slits as their body froze. The blond was tense, coiled up and prepared to attack Yuuri for a jar of  _ jam _ . Yet, Yuuri encouraged it. The thrill of fighting was his new ecstasy, his new drug as he swallowed down the fear and welcomed the promise of a challenge, the promise of split lips and bloodied spit.

The teenager moved first, a solid kick that Yuuri deflected by jumping back to avoid the other. He didn’t  _ really  _ want to beat up a kid (even if it was some disrespectful teenager going through a bad Hot Topic phase), but if physical force was needed for defense--he stressed the word because Yuuri may be suicidal but he’s not an idiot--then he would strike back.

Naturally, since the blond wasn’t about to simmer down anytime soon, it was only a matter of time before Yuuri was struck. The teenager managed to land a clean punch on Yuuri’s arm that was protecting the jar of jam, and the sudden jolt of pain forced Yuuri to stumble back to catch his breath. He frowned deeply as he winced at the red mark, bordering a dark eggplant purple, tattooed near the crook of his elbow. Self defense it was.

Before thinking of the possibilities of a lawsuit on his hands, Yuuri returned the favor with a well trained kick onto the other’s shin. The teenager cursed as they dropped to one knee at the staggering pain; while they were down, Yuuri swept the other’s feet from under them with a swish of a kick that unbalanced the teenager and caused them to fall flat on their ass. Yuuri stood above the androgynous looking person, a serious frown on his mouth. 

Immediate guilt flooded his system as soon as he realized he just knocked over a kid probably ten years younger than him onto their butt for a  _ jar of jam _ . Yuuri glanced around nervously; he expected the police to be cornering him from all sides with indistinguishable uniforms and duplicate scowls on their faces. Any minute now and he would be arrested, beat up by his inmates for attacking a child, and killed in under twenty minutes. He sighed when no one else was present other than him and the other kid, who’s leg was shaking from the intensity of Yuuri’s kick. 

“Look, I’m sorry, uh, stranger, but I really need this jam.” He rambled as he stuck his hand out for the younger person to grab ahold of it. “I’ve been having an awful week and I--” He yelped in alarm when the other suddenly dragged him down to their level on the ground. Yuuri landed harshly on his arm, for the jam was tucked away on his chest and becoming a very sticky, warm jar. Yuuri blinked up in surprise as the other jumped up onto their feet. They planted a very kind “thank you gift” to Yuuri as payback in the form of a well executed kick that swiftly knocked the wind out of Yuuri’s lungs.

The stranger dug the bottom of their shoe into Yuuri’s forehead with a sneer. “Dumbass. Now, hand over the jar before  _ I  _ call the police on your pedophile ass.” They sniffed haughtily, “You fit the pedophile role perfectly, old man. Cough it up.” The smaller person outstretched their arm, palm facing up as they silently demanded for the jar. 

Yuuri flinched. The weird kid desperate enough for strawberry jam to fight was  _ commanding  _ him to willingly oblige. Well, they had another thing coming if Yuuri had a say in it. Yuuri rolled off from the disgusting shoe planted on his head before shooting his body up. With his heavier weight, he tackled the teenager down onto the dirty floor of the Walmart with a war cry loose on his lips. 

“Fuck you!” Yuuri exclaimed as he was kneed harshly in the stomach. The other managed to roll him over so that he was on his back this time with an insufferable kid trying to maim him. When the other grabbed his hair, Yuuri retaliated by yanking at fine strands of white golden, evoking a deep growl and a sharp jab near his eye. 

“I will fucking  _ murder  _ you if you don’t give me that strawberry jam!” 

“Never!” Yuuri yelled. “Unhand me before I beat you harder than your parents will when the police escort you home!” 

“Fucking shut up!” 

“I--!” 

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON OVER HERE?!” Yuuri and the strange child halted in their wrestling as a new voice presented itself to the situation. The Japanese man froze up. Standing a little ways away, a scowling Walmart employee glared daggers into the duo’s skulls with a tired set of drooping shoulders and hands crossed in an annoyed way. 

“This bastard started fighting me for  _ my  _ jam!” The teenager informed the manager (or that’s who Yuuri assumed was) with a haughty huff of their breath. Yuuri’s jaw slackened in a stunned gape as fury licked up at his fresh wounds and ignited a beast within himself.

“Are you  _ kidding  _ me? You’re the one who started throwing the punches first! You threatened to  _ kill  _ me for this stupid strawberry jam and when I stopped the fight to help you up, you just threw me on the ground and  _ stepped  _ on top of me!” Yuuri fumed. 

“You deserve it, bitch! This wouldn’t have happened if you just gave me the fucking jam!” 

“And this wouldn’t have happened if you just went to go to someone and asked to see if they had anymore in the back! But,  _ no _ , you have to start fighting me!” 

“You could have asked someone to check the back too, but instead you started kicking at me too, asshole!” The stranger furiously retorted. Yuuri was about one second away from bitch slapping this mouthy kid, but he was a respectable member of society and  _ not  _ an active member of the fight club.

“It was self defense!” 

“Self defense doesn’t involve you kicking me near my balls!” 

“Well--” Yuuri opened his mouth for his counterargument, but the manager beat him to it.

“That’s enough! It’s almost 2 am and I don’t get paid enough for this shit,” well, maybe they were actually one of the cashiers, “so I’m just going to do myself and Walmart a favor: you two are banned from this store.” 

“WHAT?” Yuuri and the blond screamed at the same time. Yuuri scrambled up to his feet clumsily and frantically waved his arms around him.

“Wait, it was just a one time thing! I won’t do it again! I just wanted to buy some toast and jam!” Yuuri fret, but the employee was  _ not  _ having it. 

“I don’t care. You two are banned. Now get out of this store before I call security  _ and  _ the cops.” 

“Well, can I at least buy this before I go?” The employee eyed him up and down before nonchalantly shrugging. They led the way to the cashier with Yuuri and an oddly obedient and silent kid trailing behind them. Yuuri gulped. He wondered how he would be able to explain the whole situation to Phichit, but decided against telling his friend (at least for the time being). 

Once the cashier rang him up and Yuuri awkwardly withdrew five bucks from his pathetically empty wallet, Yuuri shuffled out of the store with his head down and a guilty tug of his lips as he worried them. The black haired man sighed as he stepped out into the chilly winter air and began the short trek to his parked car. Before he started walking, however, he turned back to the pouting teenager who scuffed their feet against the rocky cement with the toe of their sneakers.

Yuuri bit his lip. He decisively switched his attention between his warm car and the lost teenager, who stared up at the sky with a frown marring their features. Yuuri sighed, straightened up his back, and stepped closer to the teenager. When the shorter blond realized it was Yuuri who was walking towards them, their pout morphed into a heavy scowl. 

“What the fuck do you want?” Yuuri resisted the urge to massage his temples and release a long suffering sigh. 

“Do you have a ride home?” The teenager warily stared at him so Yuuri maintained a friendly aura and a polite smile. After a quick scan, the younger person reluctantly shook their head.  “I can drive you home, if you’d like. It’s too cold to be walking home at this hour.” Yuuri pointed out. He tilted his head to the side to show where his car was. Finally, the teenager nodded again, stuffing their hands into their pockets.

“But if you try anything funny, I’m calling the police.” Yuuri rolled his eyes. He spun around to walk back over to his beaten down car without glancing behind him to check if the other was following. Judging by the rocks skidding past Yuuri’s own feet, the other was following him, just a few inches behind him to maintain a certain distance between them. Yuuri unlocked his door after gently tossing his jar of jam in the backseat. The blond kid’s scowl deepened as they distrustfully surveyed the surface of the car. 

“Your car sucks.” They bluntly commented. Yuuri swore a blood vessel popped, but he kept up his friendly facade as he buckled himself into his seat and started the engine. The car’s loud groan of protest only seemed to cement the blond’s truthful words. 

“Well, when you’re a poor college student, you don’t really have much of a choice.” Yuuri shrugged before saying, “Buckle in before I kick you out of my shitty car.” The teenager stage whispered some choice curse words but complied with Yuuri’s casual threat. It was too cold outside and the buzzing car’s was beginning to heat up as the engine warmed.

“So, where am I taking you? And what’s your name? I would have asked it sooner, but we were too busy beating each other up for me to ask.” Yuuri asked as he leaned back in the driver’s seat and nestled his back further into the soft polyester seat. Idly flicking through their phone, the teenager grumbled grumpily under their breath before manually lowering the chair’s position.

“Yuri.” Yuuri blinked in surprise. There was no way this kid was some mind reader… “And it’s  _ not  _ a girl name, so don’t bother fucking telling me it is.” Yuri grunted while sticking their legs up to balance them on top of the dashboard. Yuuri winced at the dirt and grime from the Yuri’s shoes (he knew what was under those sneakers--trust  _ him _ ) smearing onto his clean dash, but he refrained from reprimanding the other when Yuri was obviously in an awful mood.

“I wasn’t going to.” He said evenly. “Actually, my name is Yuuri too.” He purposefully sounded out the u’s so that Yuri would understand that their names were slightly different--both in tones and in languages. 

“Huh. Small world.” Yuri shrugged. “So does that mean you’re like a boy or…?” The poorly masked question deflecting Yuri’s curiosity did not go over the Japanese man’s head. Perhaps the teenager was questioning their own gender. Yuuri smiled fondly as he remembered back when he was dealing with nearly the same exact thing.

“I’m genderfluid. I go by they/them pronouns, but I prefer he/him; it really just depends.” 

“Oh.” Yuri stated in a meek voice. They shifted their eyes to Yuuri, who was casually flicking through his own phone and calming down a terrified Phichit who finally noticed his absence. Yuuri caught the blond’s eye and smiled amiably. 

“How did you…” Yuri struggled to piece together the words, “How did you,  _ you know _ ?”

“How did I decide what pronouns I was more comfortable with?” Yuuri assumed. Little Yuri nodded a bit eagerly. “Well, I was kind of struggling for a bit, I guess? I was fine with like, he/him pronouns, but it didn’t really  _ fit  _ me, you know? Well, I didn’t really, uh, know much about genders and sexualities back then, so…” 

“Then, my best friend--his name is Phichit--helped me with discovering who I was--am today. He’s transgender too, and at the time, he really educated me on like the different genders there were out there. There’s a lot more than just he, her, and they, you know.” 

“Whoa,” Yuri’s eyes widened, a sparkle of admiration in their eyes. Yuuri smiled, bobbing his head up and down encouragingly.

“You don’t have to know what pronouns you want to go by for now. Just find what’s comfortable and what makes you happy. It doesn’t matter what anyone else says. Focus on yourself and be  _ honest  _ with what you want. That’s something I always wanted to tell myself when I was a teenager.” Yuuri sighed. A sudden wave of exhaustion hit him worse than nausea as the lack of sleep finally caught up with his distressed body. He yawned languidly with a stretch of his lips and his arms (that popped a few joints--Yuuri swore his body was catching up with his old mentality).

“Okay… Then…” Yuri bit their lip. “I feel like--no, I  _ am  _ a boy.” They-- _ he  _ decided for himself. Yuuri beamed with pride at the younger man; he couldn’t help but rustle Yuri’s hair as a swell of fulfillment fluttered through his chest.

“Good for you, Yuri.” He praised and nearly laughed at how pleased Yuri appeared. “SO, can I drive you home now? I’m sure your guardians are worried about you.” As he spoke, Yuri’s face soured and the light smile on his pretty face instantly dropped, morphing into a sharp sneer.

“It’s just my cousin’s house, but I don’t want to go back there.” Yuuri nodded agreeably. 

“Well, is there a friend’s house you can stay at? Or another relative’s?” 

Yuri’s eyes lit up as he bobbed his head up and down enthusiastically. “Yeah! Their name is Otabek! And they live really close to here!” The blond quickly tapped his phone back on (most likely to shoot a text to his friend) as Yuuri hummed softly to himself while waiting.

He felt like an actual mother driving his son to his friend’s house when Yuri nodded at the older man and barked out a street address that Yuuri actually recognized. The black haired male released the parking brake, turned on his radio with the aux cord already plugged in, and set his car to drive mode. As the two Yuris rolled out of the abandoned parking lot at 2 am, Yuuri cranked up his favorite tunes when he noticed the other Yuri bobbing his head slightly up and down with the music.

After ten minutes of driving and an extra three because he accidentally turned at the wrong stop, Yuuri found himself in front of a moderate two-story house with its porch lights turned on. Yuri bit his lip contemplatively, and Yuuri was about to joke if the other male would spend the night in his car instead before Yuri shyly stuck out his phone. 

“Give me your number,” he demanded in a grouchy tone. Yuuri blinked. Well, he never expected for  _ this  _ to happen. Then again, after a wild night at Walmart that got him and the other teen banned from a fistfight over strawberry jam, Yuuri figured nothing could really surprise him at this point. He grinned toothily, gently accepting the phone and adding his number in the new contact page. After setting his name to “ _ Not You-uri _ ”, the black haired male handed the device back to Yuri.

“Take care, Yuri. It was nice meeting you in Walmart over a fistfight for jam.” 

Yuri snorted. “I was supposed to get it for my cousin’s  _ blintzes _ , but he’ll fucking get over it.” Yuuri wanted to admonish the other for his sharp tongue, but he decided to let it go. Maybe if they saw each other again past texts, he could buy Yuri a thesaurus. Actually, that sounded like a brilliant idea! But only if Yuri agreed to it.

“Well,” Yuuri worried his bottom lip, “if you want… I could give you half of the jam tomorrow? If you’re okay with that, of course. And if you’re like free--oh my god did I just assume if you were free? I mean, if you’re not, that’s fine; I don’t want to pressure you or anything--”

“Oh my god, pig, it’s fine.” Yuri stopped Yuuri’s rambling (that was going to get confusing,  _ fast _ ) mid-rant with a quick shrug of his shoulders. “I’ll just text you like at noon tomorrow.” 

Yuuri arched an eyebrow. “You’re just going to ignore my name? Call me ‘pig’ after I dropped your ass at your friend’s house?” He teased. Yuri rolled his eyes before sticking out his tongue. 

“It’s confusing and just fucking weird. I’ve never really  _ talked  _ to another Yuri before, so…” 

“Well, we’ll clear that up later. Take care, Yuri. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Whatever.” Yuri slammed the door behind him. He walked up three steps towards the porch with a bit of a hunched back--probably to maintain his angsty, angry emo phase, Yuuri thought with amusement--and rang the doorbell an impressive amount of times before the front door finally opened. After watching Yuri’s back become enveloped by the sharp light of the house and the door shut behind him, Yuuri started up his car and headed home. He did manage to sneak a peek at this Otabek person, and when their eyes met, Otabek gratefully nodded at him with a monotone face. Well.

By the time Yuuri returned home, he no longer craved strawberry jam toast. Thankfully, his constant anxiety helped him in keeping awake while driving lest he run into a stop sign or a pole. He was a bit worse for wear, but at least he won the fight over the jam and the true beauty of friendship at odd hours in a dusty Walmart. Good times.

“Yuuri!” Phichit basically slammed into his friend. He nearly took Yuuri out like a bowling game too. “You’re safe! What took you so long to get some jam?!” Phichit scolded as he clung onto Yuuri for dear life. The taller man chuckled uncomfortably as he toed off his shoes and slid the door firmly behind him so it would actually close. After locking the front door and sliding over to the kitchen with slippery socks and a clingy roommate, Yuuri clumsily fell into the kitchen chair and realized how abashed he was now that he thought of the story.

“Um, so, you know how you always tell me how I get really mad and upset when I’m hungry and tired?” 

“Yeah,” Phichit all too enthusiastically nodded. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion but nudged his chin forward for Yuuri to continue, “Go on…”  
“Just know that, um, this isn’t as bad as you getting sent to jail.” 

“Yuuri,  _ what did you do _ ?” 

“Nothing bad! Sort of.” Yuuri winced at how dubious he sounded. And judging by how Phichit continued to eye him skeptically, he wasn’t the only one who thought that way. Yuuri gulped in a breath of air--might as well just get it over with.

“So I  _ kind of  _ got into a fistfight with a minor over strawberry jam, then got kicked out and banned from the Walmart five minutes away from here, shared my past experiences with my gender--I guess that’s how to word it??--with the same guy I got into a fistfight in, got the other guy’s number, and drove him to his friend’s house.” Yuuri summarized his wild night out. Phichit’s eyes practically bulged out his skull as he leaned forward in his own chair, a breathless, awe filled expression on his face. He looked torn between coming off as proud for Yuuri’s accomplishments in making new friends or joking strictness that would still make Yuuri feel chastised. 

He settled on the former, “I can’t believe you made friends with someone you were just fighting.” Phichit shook his head. “Honestly, only  _ you  _ can fight someone over jam and manage to become their friend in the next minute. I’m like a little impressed. Sad that you got to experience such a wild night without me, but impressed.” 

“Yeah,” Yuuri agreed; he felt winded at the whole experience, but at least he managed to come out mostly unscathed from it. “I’m kind of like surprised I did that, to be honest.” 

“I’m not!” Phichit cheerfully input. “You’re always scary when you don’t have enough sleep! One time, you even threatened to castrate me because I started humming!” 

“First of all, why do you sound so happy about that? And second of all, I don’t remember any of this.” 

Phichit shrugged. “I just find it funny. And yeah, you act worse than like when you overdose on alcohol.”

“Overdose?” 

“Basically.” The Thai male shifted in his seat. His easygoing smile changed into a worried frown as he crossed his arms and regarded Yuuri with a chiding look. “I know you probably don’t want to talk about it…” 

“You’d assume correctly,” Yuuri snipped. Phichit rolled his eyes.

“Well, I’m still here for you anyway. I will _suffocate_ you with my friendship and supportive wingman actions, don’t think I won’t.”   
“Okay, okay, I get it, Phichit.” Yuuri was the one to roll his eyes this time. “Just.. Just give me some time, okay? I’m still really upset this all happened and that Viktor probably doesn’t even like me, and he didn’t text _back,_ and I saw him with that other really attractive person, and, and--and I am officially done with this conversation.” Yuuri rushed out breathlessly. He wiped away tears threatening to fall from his eyes with the icy sleeve of his sweater and smiled appreciatively when Phichit patted him kindly on the shoulder. 

“Hey, it’s alright, pal. We can get through this together.” Phichit gripped onto Yuuri’s shoulder and shook it gently. Yuuri grinned through his tears and allowed his friend to wipe the rest of them away. “So, Guang Hong and I were talking and we were thinking of  _ Mario Party 8  _ and  _ Mario Kart  _ showdowns instead of our usual get-smashed-as-soon-as-possible meetup.” Phichit announced. His grin was darker than a shark’s as he evenly provoked Yuuri with a shit eating grin and an evil gleam in his eye. Yuuri recognized that look  _ anywhere _ . 

“You’re on.” Yuuri smiled, feeling his own competitive streak flaring up. “Oh, but would it be cool if someone else joined us this Friday?” 

“Just cause you add a complete stranger doesn’t mean I  _ won’t  _ kick your ass in  _ Mario Kart,  _ Yuuri. Nice try though.” Phichit laughed as Yuuri flipped him off. “But yeah sure, the more the merrier and all that jazz. Plus, I get to defeat you for all time! You will never rise from the ashes of your shame and humiliation! ” Phichit added a maniacal cackle as he threw his head back and rubbed his hands together in glee.

“Shut up, you nerd, before we get another noise complaint.” Yuuri paused. “And this time, they won’t assume we’re fucking.” 

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


“I can’t believe we’ve never met him before, Yuuri!” Phichit stage whispered excitedly as he ushered Yuuri into the empty kitchen to refill the popcorn bowl. Yuuri rolled his eyes as he propped his back against the countertop, listening in to the other Yuri mumbling the lines in time with the movie playing on Phichit’s laptop. They managed to hook up his laptop to the television--which seemed to earn Yuri more brownie points when he casually shrugged and told them his friend Otabek showed him how--which was currently playing  _ Mean Girls _ , one of Phichit’s all time favorite movies.

“Yeah, I know.” Yuuri inspected his nails critically and ignored the dying whale sound protruding from Phichit’s mouth. “You only told me like what? Twenty times?” 

“I’m going to adopt him, Yuuri.” Phichit openly declared with a determined (uh oh) glint of his dark eyes. “I’m texting Seung-Gil  _ right now  _ and telling him we have a son now.” Yuuri easily plucked the phone from Phichit’s hands before he could effectively freak out Seung-Gil (no one could ever really tell how serious Phichit was, so it wouldn’t be completely far fetched if Phichit  _ was  _ to be pregnant) and stuffed it inside his hoodie’s pockets.

“Yuuri, I’m serious right now.” Phichit whined over the popcorn popping. “He’s like  _ son  _ material. I’m freaking out. I’m now more likely to try for a kid knowing that  _ good ones exist _ .” 

“Phichit, calm down, holy fuck.” Yuuri rolled his eyes. He fidgeted with the phone inside of his pouch pocket and fixed Phichit a stern glare. “Yuri already has parents. Or well, a  _ guardian  _ so you can kiss your adoption fantasies goodbye.” 

“I’m going to do it.” Phichit crossed his arm over his heart.

“Uh, do  _ what  _ exactly?” Yuuri asked in concern. He debated on whether or not to ring up Seung-Gil just in case, but figured that as long as Phichit wasn’t about to act on his more illegal ideas, then he would be fine. For now. Maybe. 

“I’m going to ask Yuri to be my son.” Yuuri was never more glad than now for the popcorn to be done so he could remove himself from the same vicinity as his ridiculous roommate.

“WE COULD BE A HAPPY TRANS FAMILY, YUURI!” Phichit hollered out after Yuuri’s retreating form. Yuuri rolled his eyes as he moved to sit down next to a transfixed Yuri, whose eyes were currently glued to the screen as if it was the holy grail.

“Here, I brought us more popcorn.” Yuuri informed the other. He slid the bowl over to Yuri’s open arms silently asking for the buttery treat before settling down into the couch. He pulled a cushion over his chest as he watched Regina play Cady over the phone. Gretchen gasped defensively at Cady, and honestly, this was the reason why Yuuri had trouble talking to other people about personal matters on the phone. He was  _ not  _ about to be duked as hard as Cady by say, Phichit, just because he was careless about his words.

“Alright, I’m back!” Phichit sang happily as he dumped himself roughly onto the couch on Yuuri’s other side. Yuri shushed him harshly as he popped another popcorn into his mouth and quietly quoted the movie. Phichit nearly wrenched off Yuuri’s shoulder in his excitement, whispering, “That’s what Seung-Gil does, Yuuri, that’s what Seung-Gil does!” Yuuri rolled his eyes so hard back into his head, he swore he could see his brain.  

They spent the rest of their time watching  _ Mean Girls  _ with Phichit sharing his extensive knowledge of the show and impressing Yuri by quoting only Gretchen’s quotes. The older Yuuri, on the other hand, was far less amazed by Phichit’s knowledge of area in the movie, and he just tucked himself into a comfortable position with a blanket over his lap as he settled in for a wild ride. Unfortunately, even though the ride was technically “free”, it entailed both men flanking his sides to quote the movie while it was playing. Yuuri didn’t know what was worse: Yuri memorizing the whole movie or Phichit squealing about Yuri’s “son like material” every five seconds when Yuuri just wanted to enjoy his high carb popcorn and the classical movie.

“Is butter a carb?” Yuri would quote. 

“YOU CAN’T SIT WITH US!” Phichit would then say a few seconds later, leaving Yuuri equal parts exasperated and fucking exhausted with having to deal with these children. Phichit nudged him with a wink, and Yuuri shot back his own blank monotone expression. Fortunately, one of Yuuri’s favorite parts was coming up (and by “coming up”, he meant in the next like half hour). 

“ _ I wish we could all get along like we used to in middle school. I wish I could bake a cake filled with rainbows and smiles and everyone would eat it and be happy. _ ” Yuuri whispered. God, he loved this part. Phichit gave him a very vivid shit eating grin while Yuri peeked at him from under his blond emo fringe, the beginnings of a tiny smile on his lips.

“SHE DOESN’T EVEN GO HERE!” Damian yelled, decked out in his full “disguise” consisting of a drawn up light blue hoodie and a pair of shades. 

“Relatable.” Yuuri murmured in response. 

“To who?” Yuri asked in interest.  
“To the both of them. I’m both of them.” 

“Tag yourself, I’m Gretchen, and I’ll always be Gretchen.” Phichit piped up. 

“Hmm, Janis.” Yuri replied as he shoved more popcorn into his mouth. 

Yuuri just shrugged helplessly, “I dunno… Probably Tina Fey. Err, I mean Ms. Norbury.” Phichit shook his head since he already knew the answer while Yuri arched a thin eyebrow at Yuuri. The older man smiled, already anticipating the curious question from the younger one. People always asked whenever he answered with the teacher.  _ Always _ .

“Why would you want that old hag?” 

“Well, first of all, she’s old, and honestly, I’m already like 70. Second of all, she embarrassed herself on the first day which is very  _ very  _ relatable. Third of all, I like Tina Fey. Fourth of all, she had rumors spread behind her back; fifth of all, she is so done with this school. And finally, the most important reason: she has  _ bury  _ in her last name, and honestly same because I want to be buried six feet under ground while I’m still alive.” Yuuri counted off on his fingers. The blond eyed him critically before a short burst of laughter fell from his lips and brightened the whole room. Yuuri grinned at Phichit’s starstruck face as  _ he  _ was the one to nudge the shorter man this time.

“You’re weird,  _ katsudon _ .” Yuri shook his head whilst still chuckling. Yuuri beamed at the endearing nickname (which was bestowed on him after a quick round of introductions and a game of 20 questions between the three) before he playfully ruffled Yuri’s hair. Yuri squawked indignantly as he swatted at Yuuri’s wandering hands upon his head. Phichit captured the whole thing on his camera with a proud, teary smile.

When the credits rolled and the movie reverted back to the main menu page, Yuuri stretched out of his seat first, a yawn tumbling from his lips as his joints popped. Phichit lazily kicked at the back of his knee as he scrolled through his social media sites and posted a few pictures of the movie they just watched the a selfie with all three of them. Yuri weaseled out Phichit’s instagram name and secretly saved the photos he liked the best.

“Wanna go out to eat or order take out?” Yuuri asked as he gazed over to the clock next to the archway leading into the kitchen. Phichit pointedly stared at Yuri since he was the guest.

Yuri shrugged, “Order in. I don’t want to see people right now.” 

“Fair point.” They ended up bickering about which takeout to get: Thai, Chinese, or Italian. Yuuri argued that Chinese was the cheapest and had a wide variety of selection to choose from. Phichit complained about the copious amounts of MSG and oil in the closest American Chinese restaurant and suggested Italian instead (something about cravings). Finally, they all settled on Thai food because Yuri demanded it and the older two caved in: Yuuri because the blond was the guest and Phichit because he favored the younger Yuri.

Phichit called the take out place first before switching over to Thai with an ease many people with only one language on their tongue envied over. Yuuri could recognize a few words between Phichit and the owner of the Thai restaurant, but he actually knowing like ten words and speaking the language fluently was something entirely different. While Phichit wandered over to his room, no doubt to search for coupons in the jumbled mess of his bed, Yuuri brought the emptied popcorn bowl to the sink to wash it. 

Eventually, Yuri slinked into the kitchen as well; he watched Yuuri from his perch sitting on top of the countertop next to the stove without verbally speaking. After Yuuri finished the remaining dishes in the sink, he dried his hands off on the closest dry towel before stopping midway to playfully sprinkle a few droplets onto an openmouthed Yuri caught in a yawn. 

“Hey!” Yuri spluttered and spat out the gross water. “You fucker!” He yelped, but Yuuri just winked at him and laughed boisterously as Yuri grumbled a whole sentence of curses beneath his breath. Yuuri balanced back onto the counter diagonal from the blond as he rested the back of his head against the cupboard. 

“Thanks for coming today, Yuri. It was a lot of fun to hang out with you.” He admitted. Yuuri smiled when Yuri shot him a weak glare, but crossed his arms in a loose manner.

“I guess it was fun. At least you’re paying for my dinner.” 

“My, Yuri,” Yuuri brought his hand to his chest with a dramatic gasp, “I can not  _ believe  _ you would just  _ use  _ us like this!” His hand splayed over to the top of his head as if he were about to faint. 

“I’m  _ woozy  _ with disbelief!” Yuri burst out laughing at the older man’s dramatic antics and did not stop laughing for the next few minutes, even when Yuuri finished up his acting spiel. 

“You are crazy.” Yuri shook his head in fond exasperation. “You remind me of my cousin,  _ Vitya _ .” Yuuri crinkled his nose in confusion at the foreign word. 

“It’s a Russian nickname for the idiot.” Yuri explained as a frown marred his previously smooth forehead. “His real name is  _ Viktor _ \--”  _ Oh no,  _ Yuuri thought as dread covered his insides with goo, “--and he works as like basically a host.” Yuri continued to rant, unaware of the other Yuuri who looked two seconds away from emptying all the popcorn in his stomach onto the floor. 

“He never comes home to Russia to visit, so I decided to come down myself to see what was so fucking important for him to not visit. Turns out that asshole is a fucking boyfriend you can  _ rent _ !” Yuuri tried really hard not to hurl. His mind spun as things began to click together into a perfect puzzle: the Russian accent, the light colors of their eyes and hair, the fucking  _ way  _ they both held up fronts to hide their true selves--and the way they tilted their head in confusion and their eyes lit up in identical gleams of joy. It all made sense.

“--and he’s just whoring himself out to--to, to a bunch of desperate fuckers who have to  _ pay  _ someone to spend time with them! It’s disgusting ( _ You’re disgusting,  _ Yuuri heard); it’s so pitiful I could  _ barf-- _ !” 

“That’s enough!” Yuuri screamed. He panted heavily, his brain barely comprehending the present situation; he could barely tell apart his anxiety and depression at this point. He was being pulled side to side by both of his mental illnesses, and he could only _ let  _ himself be eaten apart, to be dragged around like some ragdoll and then pinned down onto a corkboard like a captured butterfly with a needle in his chest. When he escaped from his muddy high, Yuuri glanced over to Yuri guiltily, who looked like he had just been slapped.

“I’m sorry, Yuri,” he croaked out between tears. “I’m sorry I’m just a fucking desperate, pitiful  _ weirdo  _ who needed to  _ pay  _ for your cousin’s company!” He buried his face in his hands and cried. Phichit’s footsteps thundered from the other room over to the kitchen as he sprung in through the archway, a question on his lips and an anxious glint of light in his dark brown eyes. 

“What happened?” Phichit quietly asked as he turned over to a confused, guilty Yuri.

“I don’t know.” Yuri muttered. He was not usually one to cry in front of others, but tears sprang to his eyes as he suddenly felt really, really awful. Yuuri was crying because of him, because of his reckless, harsh words that his grandfather always reprimanded him on. 

_ “You will hurt someone you really care one day, Yuratchka. If you do not want to lose someone dear to you, I would suggest you fix your mouth before they leave you _ .” His grandfather always used to say. And now,  _ now  _ Yuri understood what his grandfather meant.

Phichit sighed as he pushed a palm through his bangs. He stared at both of the Yuris in tears before collecting himself. He gently pried Yuri’s hands out of his face, a kind, encouraging smile on his own as he wrapped Yuri up into a hug. 

“It’s okay, Yuri. The other Yuuri is just--he’s going through a lot right now.” He softly said. Yuri sniffled wetly on his shirt. “I didn’t really hear much, but I’m assuming this has something to do with Viktor?”

“Da,” Yuri murmured against his chest with a bitter tone, “I didn’t know Yuuri knew him, honest.” He slowly unpeeled himself from Phichit to stare imploringly up at him, a cry of plea not unheard from Phichit’s understanding eyes. 

“I wasn’t trying to be a m-mean person,” he stated through a thick tongue. Yuri licked his chapped lips as his head swiveled over to the man crumpled on the floor with tears and soft hiccups emitting from his hidden face. He did not know that Yuuri would have been so affected by his idiotic cousin, and the thought that fucking  _ Viktor  _ hurt someone to the point of breaking down  _ infuriated  _ Yuri. He didn’t hate his cousin, but sometimes he wished Viktor wasn’t so selfish.

“It’s not your fault, Yuri.” Phichit soothed as he calmly pet Yuri’s hair. “You didn’t know that Yuuri would have reacted like this--you didn’t do this on purpose. I’m also pretty upset with Viktor for breaking Yuuri’s heart like this too.” He bit his lip. 

“Actually, Yuuri hasn’t told me anything of what happened the day he was supposed to deliver Viktor a gift.” The Thai male quietly relayed. “He just came home all the sudden with the most empty expression on his face. It scared me to death.  _ Buddha _ , I never want to see that again.” He laughed bitterly. Yuri remained silent on his chest, a serious, grim frown between his eyebrows as Phichit continued his side of the tale. Phichit’s eyes lost the woody warmth he always had as they hardened to black flints of stone.

“And Yuuri, he just wouldn’t come out of his room for five days. I don’t even think he  _ ate _ .” Yuri looked horrified at the notion. He remembered when he met Yuuri briefly a few weeks ago, but the other male looked slightly different than he did now. Yuuri was a bit on the chubbier side when Yuri barrelled into him--hence the nickname, “pig”. What he didn’t realize until that very moment was that Yuuri’s size shrunk. He was like a dried up grape in the sun. Sure, the older man still had a bit of weight on him, but he was not as large and  _ healthy  _ as Yuri remembered him to be.

“He didn’t--he didn’t  _ eat _ ?” Yuri questioned in a small, small voice. 

“No, I don’t think he did. Maybe a few crackers or something, but as far as I know, he just cried in bed all day.” Phichit sighed tiredly. He smiled reassuringly at the younger male before pulling away first. The dark skinned man knelt down to Yuuri’s form on the ground; fortunately, the other male seemed to stop crying for the most part, but tremors still quaked across his body.

“Come on, Yuu. Up you go.” Phichit softly said before gently ushering his friend up onto his feet. Yuuri wiped away his tears; an exhausted, nearly dead sag of his face revealed to Phichit as he smoothed his hand sympathetically across the shoulders and squeezed. 

“Go get your face washed and I’ll make some tea, okay?” Yuuri nodded blankly, not quite seeing things past his dreamy state of mind before he gathered himself up in one shuddering, deep breath and clumsily ambled out of the kitchen. Phichit hurried over to start a boiling pot of water. 

“What about you, Yuri? Want some hot chocolate?” Yuri remained uncharacteristically meek. He nodded anyway with an unsure bite of his lip.

“Don’t worry, Yuuri will forgive you. He’s probably more upset with himself for spooking you than anything.” 

“But it’s not his fault!” Yuri burst out before settling down with his hands clinging to the countertop with a face resembling a scolded child, “I’ll apologize, even though it’s dumbass Viktor’s fault.” Phichit laughed.

“Atta boy.” 

When Yuuri stumbled back into the kitchen with a better expression on his face and half a tired smile, Phichit beamed at his best friend before planting a soft kiss onto Yuuri’s cheek. Yuuri smiled at him with eyes that spoke of his gratitude in words spelled out in the stars shining in his beautiful brown orbs. Phichit felt relief cling to his heart, and he clutched at it desperately in return. He never wanted Yuuri to have to deal with something as heartbreaking ever again.

“I’m sorry, Yuuri/Yuri!” Both Yuris exclaimed at the same time. An identical set of bewildered expressions sprouted on both of their faces, causing Phichit to wheeze from how stupefied they both appeared at the moment. He almost wished he had his camera ready for that. Instead, he stood patiently by the stove to give room to the two apologetic males while he waited for the tell tale screech, similar to a train’s whistle, of the tea pot.

“I’m sorry, Yuri. I didn’t mean to freak you out.” Yuuri apologized first. He brought his hands up halfway before squeezing them tight next to his body, a regretful downturn of his lips presenting on his face. 

“No, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said all those hurtful things! I didn’t--I didn’t think you of all people would have been with that asshole.” Yuri looked torn between appearing angry and guilty at the same time; it certainly was the picture to see. Yuuri chuckled, a deep rumble of his throat that barely squeezed past his frozen lips.

“Me of all people? Are you implying that I’m not good enough for your cousin?” Yuuri asked with a raised eyebrow. Yuri freaked out as he turned his eyes back and forth around the room before finally landing on Phichit. He mouthed a brief, “help”, but Phichit just shrugged, whistled innocently at the deep groan from a confused Yuri, and turned his back to the two of them.

“I’m just kidding, Yuri.” Yuuri said through a sharp bark of laughter. Phichit didn’t have to turn around to know that Yuri’s shoulders slumped down in relief.

“You’re an idiot.” The boy muttered as he pouted. Yuuri grinned before enveloping the teenager into his arms and sighing. Yuri still smelled like a kid, he thought--like sunshine and freedom and a little hint of baby powder.

The tea pot whistled cheerfully, but the two didn’t separate from the hug.  Even when the doorbell rang and the piping hot Thai food was set down onto the table--a delicious smelling steam wafting from the contents of the plastic bags--by Phichit, the two didn’t stop clinging onto one another. It was cute to see Yuuri get along swimmingly with another person--even if that said person was nearly ten years his junior--and for that, Phichit was glad that Yuuri fought Yuri for a jar of jam. 

“So, Yuri, are you free this Friday?” Phichit asked nonchalantly after swallowing a mouthful of Pad Thai. Yuuri stirred beside him with an almost grateful look for Phichit springing the question onto the teenager instead of Yuri. Phichit winked at his friend before staring back at Yuri innocently, as if he hadn’t just shared a conspiracy with his roommate. Yuri eyed him suspiciously, but returned to his drunken chicken dish with a frenzy starving teenagers had with free food. When Yuuri kindly shoved a napkin into Yuri’s face--the latter thanking him under his breath--and distributed another napkin to Phichit, Yuri finally spoke up. 

“Yeah, I’m free. Why?” 

Phichit’s smirk was more conniving than a sly fox about to catch its prey. “Oh, no reason. Our group of friends are coming over to spend some quality time with me and Yuuri. Mainly me though.” Yuuri rolled his eyes and kicked him under the table for that bad joke. “Anyway, Yuuri was wondering if you wanted to join?” 

“Uh, what are we doing?” Yuri’s voice shook in apprehension. The absolutely malicious grin on Phichit’s face didn’t help matters either.

“Why, my dear boy, I’m glad you asked.” He set his spoon down in favor of entwining his fingers and placing his chin upon his hands--the perfect picture of a villain about to explain his evil plan.

“We’re going to play  _ Mario Kart  _ and  _ Mario Party 8 _ .” Yuri snorted.

“Yeah? So what? It can’t be  _ that  _ bad.” Phichit’s smile only grew wider while Yuuri’s faraway stare that looked more dead than anything was brought to the table. Yuri began to sweat nervously. 

It couldn’t be that bad…Right?

 

 

 


	6. yellow roses (friendship)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri honestly has no idea what his life is divulging into when he plays Mario Kart and Mario Party 8, then finds out someone is in the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first things first this chapter is like mainly dialogue which is why i was able to easily type it out in the usual 12 pages that i do i guess idk 
> 
> second of all, viktor will come soon (; ))) if u kno wut i mean) like he'll be here.... i just wanted shenanigans and like to project my inner wishes and hopes in this fanfic... these friends are what i aspire to have... i wish i had a crazy life like Yuuri but at the same time I don't bc my anxiety wouldn't allow it... how is this boy still alive????
> 
> idk sorry if it's not really funny like I really like this chapter but it's mainly humor that I like so idk if anyone else will have the same humor as me but im trying
> 
> unbeta'd, etc. there's actually no angst in this one for once !!! yuuri is really suicidal btw like he's always thinking of death... also headcanon that leo and guang hong named their cats after neko atsume characters (if anyone caught the reference from like chapter one) thanks yall for sticking with me btw like??? ur comments make me, literal trash, happy : ))

 

 

 

Yuuri took everything he’s ever said about the  _ Mario Kart  _ and  _ Mario Part 8  _ being a neutral, reasonable, fair game between his friends and a new addition to their “squad”, Yuri. The raven haired man currently clutched onto a plastic container of his favorite food, katsudon, to share with the rest of his friends for the mini potluck they all unceremoniously concurred with (after a “democratic”  _ majority rules  _ vote in which Seung-Gil was the only one to disagree on--this was bound to be one huge mess if a simplistic, easygoing, fair Seung-Gil was  _ against  _ free food. Turns out, he was right.).

Yuuri blinked uncomprehendingly as he stared at the absolute  _ chaos  _ the table, deemed as the “end of the rainbow potluck” by an overzealous Phichit and an all too enthusiastic Guang Hong. “Haha, it’s because we’re all basically gay and there’s a pot at the end of the gays--or something like that,” Phichit had helpfully supplied with a less than impressive sly wink if Yuuri had anything to say about it. 

Anyway, the table: instead of food items  _ sensible  _ people would think to bring, Yuuri found the table cluttered with a box of instant spicy ramen, an oily fast food bag with god knows what (he later discovered a thing of soggy fries inside, a very  _ very  _ unpleasant surprise), a jar of pickles (??), copious amounts of various junk foods and bargain priced sweets about to expire (probably from the Walmart Yuuri was banned from), and the only tolerable item on the menu: a large platter of tamales, courtesy of Leo. 

“You guys are so unbelievable!” Yuuri screamed out to the retreating crowd, who hurriedly dispersed to Leo’s living room as soon as Yuuri entered the kitchen. They all knew exactly what Yuuri would say/do after spotting the pitiful fold-up table, so the group quickly ushered a confused younger Yuri into the living room before Yuuri could maim the closest person to him--which would have been Yuri since he stuck to his counterpart like glue. 

“Did any of you, minus Leo, actually bring  _ anything _ decent to this goddamn potluck?” Yuuri scolded. He emerged from the kitchen like a ruffled mother discovering his children snuck out to play hookie instead of attending school; Yuuri glared daggers at all of the adults as he tapped his foot on the ground impatiently and crossed his arms.

“But, Yuuri!” Guang Hong whined, dragging the “u” in his name in a futile attempt to placate the furious motherhen. 

“Don’t ‘but Yuuri’  _ me!  _ Did any of you  _ adults  _ think to bring anything healthy for our growing child?” 

“Hey!” Yuri protested, but was instantly shut down by Yuuri’s intimidating glower. Phichit comfortingly pat him on the back. 

“It’s best not to anger him anymore, Yuri.” Phichit shrugged; he was too used to and familiar with Yuuri’s rants because of how long they had been living together. Whilst Yuuri was the organized, grade A student son who made the family proud, Phichit was like the easygoing kid who asked to live in the disarray of the basement and stayed down there all day. 

“Is he always like this?” Yuri plainly asked as the other Yuuri huffed and appeared to calm down after his emotional hype. Phichit nodded sagely. His eyes, usually a warm chocolate, devolved into a swirling mess of regret and pain at the remembrance of being a constant victim of Yuuri’s reprimands.

“Okay, I’m done. I’ll just,” he sighed, rubbing his temples as his other friends regarded him with an air of affection at his typical caring, concerned ways, “Yuri, you can eat the pork cutlet bowl I brought.” 

“Sweet.” Yuri internally fist bumped. He had tried Yuuri’s family recipe on Wednesday (and  _ yes _ , he was spending a lot of time with his friend, but in his defense, Otabek was always working) and immediately bonded with Yuuri over the delicious meal. To his satisfaction, the rest of the adults groaned (sans a monotone Seung-Gil) as they complained about Yuuri never making them food anymore.

“Hmm, I wonder why.” Yuuri critically eyed each of them after quite pointedly staring at the pitiable display on the table. “Honestly, no matter how old you guys get, you’re still kids at heart.” Yuuri said in mock scorn, but the softening of his eyes and the small smile playing on his lips spoke volumes of his true feelings. 

“Right, now that that’s over…” Phichit giggled when his roommate stuck out his tongue childishly at him, “let’s get this party started!” He ended his statement with over exaggerated hoots of joy that he managed to persuade Leo and Guang Hong to join in on. Seung-Gil and Yuri both looked very unamused at the immature display, but it seemed the two found enough common ground to converse lightly. Phichit playfully swooned into Yuuri’s arms, much to his displeasure.

“They’re getting along, Yuuri, they’re getting along!” Phichit excitedly stage whispered as he conspicuously stared at his boyfriend and his “son”. Yuuri rolled his eyes. To his right, Guang Hong--not one to be left out--butt in next to Phichit with a pout on his face. He dragged Leo into the group; it was a wonder neither Seung-Gil nor Yuri noticed the way the rest of the group was huddled into a cheer like squad.

“What are you guys whispering about?” Guang Hong demanded softly as he followed Phichit’s gaze over to the other two. “Are you guys talking shit?”

“No, Phichit is just having his, um, mid-life crisis?” Yuuri delicately explained. He had no idea how else to word the quirky way his best friend was practically crawling on the back of a distressed Leo to peer over his shoulder using said male as a poorly concealed hiding spot.

“Isn’t that, like, everyday though?” Guang Hong teased, receiving the bird from his friend. He guffawed, shaking his head before picking up one of the random loitering kittens and stroking its back.

“Are we going to play  _ Mario Party 8  _ yet or are we going to just stand around like we’re at a family gathering?” Leo finally asked in his exasperation to peel an adamant Phichit off of him. Once all attention was called on him, the Thai male immediately scrambled off Leo, throwing a sheepish grin to his boyfriend, who was shaking his head (and had been since he came in honestly). Yuri shrugged.

“Haha, let’s play!” Phichit yelped in excitement as he marched over to the nearest couch and plopped down on the seat. Leo instantly launched into a mission to find all the Wii remotes (they decided to rotate players so that everyone had a chance to play; Yuuri politely declined playing the first round with Seung-Gil all too enthusiastically sitting out) and the actual game. While he turned on the television to set up the Wii game, Guang Hong lagged in the back of the couch to hand a joyful Yuri a kitten.

“This is Sassy Fran. She’s a really picky eater and she’s always trying to steal my sweets!” Yuri repeated the name quietly under his breath, as if to preserve the memory better if he spoke aloud. The blond cradled the mewling kitten like a baby and giggled softly when she lapped her sandpaper tongue across his cheek.

“Me and Leo have like six cats but most of them are hiding away or sleeping. Sassy Fran and Melange,” he pointed over to another kitten who was cleaning herself, “are the only ones who are comfortable enough to be around new people or guests.” He explained, and Yuri latched onto the information as if it was vital to his life (it probably was).

Yuuri watched with a fond smile; he was glad that Yuri was starting to slowly warm up to his friends. When the teenager first introduced himself to everyone, a meekness that was odd coming from the usual spitfire, he shied behind Yuuri with a sullen frown on his face. It was obvious that he didn’t want to appear rude when he was at someone else’s house, but Yuuri much rather preferred the boisterous loudmouth over the unnatural timidness of this Yuri.

“You  _ like  _ him!” Phichit sang as he pulled Yuuri into a one armed hug. Yuuri bat his hands away with a playful frown.

“Yeah, like a _son_ , Phichit. Christ, he’s like, what? Twelve?” 

“No, sixteen. Did you not hear him when he said this? God, and you call yourself  _ his  _ dad.” 

“I don’t. You do.” Yuuri quipped back with a dry tone. Phichit slapped a hand over his chest in mock defense before draping half his heavy body weight onto Yuuri’s chest.

“Here comes the return of sassy Yuuri and the death of shy, shy Yuuri. May the other rest in pieces and never come back.” Phichit joked lightly. He laughed as Yuuri pushed him away from his body. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” 

“You better. Or else I’ll kick your ass in  _ Mario Kart _ .” 

“Sweetie, I’d like to see you try cause I’ll already be kicking yours.”

“Can you even reach that high?” Leo yelled out a quick, “SWEET BURN!” from Yuuri’s harsh comeback. Phichit flipped his short hair over. 

“Low blow, Yuuri. You hit me deep. Like balls deep.” 

“You’re gross.” Yuuri rolled his eyes affectionately as he settled back against the cushions. Leo began passing out Wii remotes to the rest of the three players actually playing. Yuri sat down abruptly next to Yuuri on the loveseat, Phichit was on Yuuri’s other side with a reluctant Seung-Gil and Leo and Guang Hong squished together onto the armchair. They were ready.

“Alright, so any rules this time?” Leo cautiously asked while booting up the game. The familiar “Mario Party Eight” bounced around the walls of the living room as all the characters screamed it out. 

“No rough housing.” Guang Hong recommended, giving Phichit a pointed look. “That’s why I’m sitting next to my soft, sweet boyfriend instead of you, Phichit.”

“It was an accident!” He protested wildly. Yuuri feared for his safety for about five seconds, then decided he could always toss Phichit’s body over the back of the couch as revenge. He was sure Seung-Gil would be willing to help him.

“I hardly call an elbow jab into the eye an ‘accident’, babe.” Seung-Gil pointed out, earning him a snicker from Leo, Yuri, and Yuuri, a beam from Guang Hong, and a whiny pout from his boyfriend.

“I hate you all. I’m going to  _ cream  _ you assholes. By the time I’m done with you, your asshole is gonna be stinging with regret.” Phichit openly challenged. Yuri rose an eyebrow at the vivid language from the Thai male while the other two males on the armchair exchanged a wicked grin.

“You’re on. If you lose, you have to do our laundry for a week.” 

“What?! You can’t just gang up on me!” Phichit complained before he spotted Yuri idly flicking his Wii remote around the characters to choose from. Phichit grabbed the other male, eliciting a surprised squeak (that he vehemently denied happened later), “Then if we’re playing two against two, Yuri is  _ my  _ partner!” 

“I didn’t agree to this.” Yuri deadpanned, wrenching his arm roughly away from Phichit’s octopus like grip. It was disconcerting for Yuuri the most, seeing as he was in the middle of this squabble.

Phichit ignored him. “And if  _ we  _ win, you have to treat us to food for a week!” 

“Shit! I should have thought of that!” Leo cursed, “Well, fine. Deal’s on. Get ready to lose.” He determinedly chose Toadette while Guang Hong picked Toad. Phichit grinned as his “hand” hovered over Yoshi and Yuri boredly decided on Boo. Yuuri sighed, exchanging a dead eyed look with Seung-Gil, the only other sane person in the room who  _ wasn’t  _ excited to lose a limb for the sake of a wii game.

Leo picked on the map, which  _ of course  _ had to be Bowser’s Warped Orbit, before smirking at Phichit and his team. Yuuri sighed. There goes his anxiety. Oh boy.

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


“YOU FUCKING CHEATER!” Yuri screeched as Guang Hong’s Toad smugly devoured the Bowser candy and passed Yuri, stealing, yet again, three stars. Phichit and Yuri were back to three stars  _ again _ . Phichit groaned, his eyes glinting in complete concentration over the game. Guang Hong and Leo high fived each other.

“All’s fair in love and war,” Guang Hong winked at Yuri, extracting another wild guttural screech and a huge middle finger flipped up.

“Fuck you and fuck your love.” Yuri grit his teeth as the four commenced in another mini game. Unfortunately, the games just  _ had  _ to stop on Flip a Chimp, nearly causing Phichit to have a heart attack as he slumped further into his seat. Even the rest of the players looked less enthusiastic at the prospect of the difficult, stressful game. Yuuri could only chuckle at how disgruntled Yuri was--and even more determined at this point to win; the kid looked like he was contemplating on “accidentally” chucking the Wii remote over to the couple.

“NO, YOU STUPID CHIMP!” Yuri wildly waved his remote to and fro.

“OH MY GOD, EAT MY ASS!” Phichit screamed this time as Leo laughed at all of them like the conniving asshole he was. He currently was the highest up on the tree, expertly flicking his wrist the perfect amount of power to successfully climb up to the red banner.

“WOOHOO! SUCK MY UNWASHED ASSHOLE, PHI- _ SHIT _ !” Guang Hong crowed in victory as he planted a sickly sweet kiss on his boyfriend’s grinning cheek.

“WHO’S GETTING CREAMED NOW, PHI-SHIT?!” Leo added salt onto the wound. Yuuri could only shake his head in sync with Seung-Gil as their rowdy group of friends yelled creative curses at each other.

Finally, the game ended with Phichit sobbing dramatically on the floor, Yuri sulking as he turned his back away from the rest of the group, and the power couple nearly making out from the victory of their win against Phichit. Yuuri soothingly pat his best friend on the shoulder. 

“Hey, it’s fine, Phichit. It’s just a game.” 

“Y-Yeah, but  _ I  _ have to do their laundry…” Phichit sniffled pathetically as he latched onto Yuuri and sobbed into his shoulder. Yuuri shifted uncomfortably. He continued to pet his roommate’s back until realization hit him. 

“You never do laundry.” Yuuri said with an uneasy frown. “Which means…” He groaned at Phichit’s puppy eyes. “ _ I  _ have to do their laundry. Phichit, you’re such a little Phi- _ shit  _ you know that?” Yuuri grumbled grumpily. He shoved Phichit over to his less sympathetic boyfriend and scowled at the television with his arms crossed.

“We’re playing.” He jut his chin out to indicate his challengers as Leo and Guang Hong. Guang Hong rose a thin eyebrow while Leo rose  _ both  _ his bushy eyebrows at the way their friend’s glower worsened as Phichit nudged both his boyfriend and his roommate pathetically.

“All or nothing,” he continued, casually inspecting his nails, “I’ll play any map you want and if  _ you  _ win, I’ll make you dinner for a week.” 

“Ooh!” Phichit gasped, staring at his roommate in respectful awe. Even Yuri perked up, his head swiveling over like a curious cat as he regarded Yuuri with an even gaze. Guang Hong and Leo shared a fast mental conversation before nodding.

“Deal. What do you want if you win?” Leo cautiously asked. The devious grin on Yuuri’s face sent chills down his spine. Oh no.

“Oh, just for you to do our laundry and to give me the recipe to your hot chocolate.” Leo sweat nervously; that recipe was a family secret that his grandma forced him to  _ swear  _ not to reveal to anyone outside of the family. Even Guang Hong didn’t know, and they were practically married! But it wasn’t like Yuuri was super  _ good  _ at games, right? Leo and Guang Hong shared an uncertain look. They had no idea how skilled Yuuri was other than that one time when they played  _ Super Mario Galaxy  _ and Yuuri kept dying.

So, perhaps Yuuri was just overconfident of his luck? Maybe he just hoped to win? Leo was nearly  _ positive  _ that he would do fine. It was by  _ his  _ terms, not Yuuri’s, and so he decided on the map he played the best: the Koopa Tycoon Town. Too bad it would not help him in the slightest.

They were playing tag team again, and Yuuri managed to rope Seung-GIl in with him. Seung-Gil shrugged indifferently; his lackluster reaction to playing only cemented the hope of Leo and Guang Hong winning, even if the two Asians were never really gauged on their level of skill on these particular games. 

Phichit, meanwhile, casually leaned back into the couch. He was strangely quiet as he pressed whispers into the curtain of Yuri’s long hair (after swapping seats with Yuuri), pointing out the characters Yuuri and Seung-Gil chose while Yuri nodded seriously. Neither broke their silent character, but when Yuuri picked Peach and Seung-Gil with Waluigi, Phichit’s eyes seemed to intensify with sparkles. That only seemed to put both Leo and Guang Hong on edge, but they didn’t voice it aloud.

15 rounds. Bonus stars on. Leo jokingly gifted the Peach-Waluigi team with a star while Phichit’s smirk grew. Yuuri’s eyes were glued onto the screen as the round began. He lazily flicked his wrist up while a huge “10” burst out of the dice in bold, white letters. It was just pure luck, right? Nothing but beginner’s luck? Oh, how Leo wished he was  _ wrong _ .

Five rounds in and already Leo wished he could jump onto a time traveler’s ship, speed back into time, and take away not only the bet but also the extra star he jokingly gave to the “rag-tag” team. Yuuri--oh man. Yuuri was a fucking  _ monster _ . Every roll, he landed on either a ten or a five in that one case which Peach ran onto the yellow music note square and was brought to the lucky 3 star hotel with a road of yellow coins dotting each space. Leo was shook.

The only upside to Yuuri’s complete and utter dominance in the game was the fact that Seung-Gil’s character was the  _ opposite.  _ He somehow managed to land on every single red space so far and run the least on the map; however, his talent lay in beating the others in every single minigame--even that dumb rowing one that Leo was  _ amazing  _ at.

“Whoops.” Yuuri drawled in the most unapologetic tone ever as he landed on a mystery square. The white masked guy (No face?) easily stole twenty coins from Toad and Toadette’s  _ only  _ hotel on the entire fucking map, downgrading it to a one-star. Guang Hong’s pout deepened as Leo growled at the screen. 

“Watch it, Katsuki. I  _ will  _ send you to the hospital like I sent Seung-Gil to one that one time.” 

Yuuri only smirked, eyes never leaving the screen as Guang Hong cursed aloud and landed on a Bowser space. It’s a good thing Seung-Gil’s character changed the Donkey Kong symbol to a Bowser one on the last round. “That would be an  _ unfortunate  _ turn of events.” Yuri rose an eyebrow in surprise and sudden, begrudging respect. Yuuri fucking Katsuki was  _ owning  _ the dance floor.

“FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!” Guang Hong yelped, throwing the Wii remote down in rage when he fucked up on the last second for the minigame they were currently on. It was back to Yuuri’s turn again, and Leo and Guang Hong were haggard with exhaustion from simply  _ losing  _ all the damn time.

“Oh, look.” Yuuri blinked as Peach arrived at the last remaining hotel owned by Guang Hong and Leo; they were barely able to scrape by with one coin left above the other two in order to ensure it was  _ their  _ hotel. 

“Ho, don’t do it.” 

“Would be a shame if someone took it.” Yuuri fluttered his eyelashes innocently as he emptied half his and Seung-Gil’s bank into the hotel.

“NOOOOO!” Guang Hong screeched, falling down off the couch and onto his knees as the last three stars were stolen from Yuuri and Seung-Gil. Yuuri blinked, a small, smug smile releasing onto his face as he arched an eyebrow, as if to say, “you doubt me now?” Leo never regretted anything more than deciding to battle an extremely  _ lucky  _ bastard like Yuuri.

“Fifteen stars and only five rounds left. Tragic.” Phichit piped in, finally adding his own input into the whole conversation. However, his snicker was definitely uncalled for and absolutely revenge from being owned the previous round. Leo almost cried. 

“Wait, wait! Use your slow-go candy!” Guang Hong, never one to give up, reminded his boyfriend for his character was about five steps away from the golden music note space. Leo’s eyes lit up. They may have lost, but at least they would be able to take away the last three stars from the winning team and not be  _ total  _ losers who won  _ nothing _ .

“YES!” Leo cheered as Toadette was transported over to another hotel. Phichit merely rose a delicate eyebrow at the fact that they thought they were  _ winning  _ while Yuri watched interestedly.

However, their joy was short lived. Because of Seung-Gil being the last player to move, and because his luck was god awful, he managed to not only land on a one on the exact same spot Toadette was  _ just  _ on, but he also managed to be taken to the same place Leo’s character was at. 

“ARE YOU SHITTING ME?!” Guang Hong flopped back tiredly against the couch while Phichit and Yuri laughed at his suffering. Yuuri smirked, Seung-Gil blankly owned everyone at the games  _ yet again _ (he had a light sheen of glee in his eyes however), Leo mourned the loss of his balls for his grandma would surely castrate him, and Guang Hong buried his tearful eyes into his hands. 

When the game ended with Yuuri and Seung-Gil collecting  _ all  _ the possible stars from the map (like 18 in total)  _ and  _ the additional bonus stars (curse Seung-Gil’s red space hogging, game winning Waluigi while Yuuri won the last star for the  _ most  _ travelled character), Leo and Guang Hong solemnly swore to never underestimate their opponents ever again. Because no one else really wanted to play  _ Mario Party 8 _ anymore, they hurriedly switched to  _ Mario Kart  _ to relieve some of the loser’s stress and anger.

“You’re a little bitch, Yuuri.” Leo joked, but not really joking at the same time. Yuuri smiled benevolently, eyes glinting like a glasses wearing anime character about to do something both evil and brilliant at the same time.

“You shouldn’t have underestimated me in the first place, Leo.” Yuuri shot back as he picked up his Wii remote for another round of yelling. “Now you lost your pride  _ and  _ your grandma’s hot cocoa recipe.” 

“SAVAGE!” Phichit whooped, and even Guang Hong laughed at his boyfriend’s demise. Yuri grinned as he held onto the remote; he really  _ really  _ wanted to compete against Yuuri and beat that fucker’s ass in! Little did he know, however, was that even though Yuuri may have been an all-star (no Shrek pun intended) at the other game, it didn’t mean he was  _ brilliant  _ at this one too.

“YOU SUCK!” Yuri exclaimed as Yuuri’s character (Mario this time) managed to careen uncontrollably into the ocean and drown the poor guy. Leo snickered all too loudly and joyfully at his friend’s misfortune, and even lagged behind to throw a banana in front of Mario’s unsuspecting cart. 

“THIS IS BULLYING!” Yuuri screamed as Mario landed in last place. “FUCK YOU, LEO!” 

“Not interested,” he smirked, “I’m a taken man.” He kissed the side of Guang Hong’s face for emphasis, eliciting a groan from Yuri and another flip of the bird from the older Yuuri.

“Is there a map you  _ don’t  _ suck at? So I can beat you fair and square?” Yuri angrily demanded. Yuuri shrugged, but Phichit’s eyes lit up. 

“Yeah! Yuuri’s really good at the Rainbow Road one!” 

“What kind of fucking logic is that?” Yuri growled.

“That’s like the most difficult map on here? If Yuuri sucks at the rest of them, how is he even gonna be  _ good  _ at Rainbow Map?” Guang Hong agreed. The couple laughed at their assured victory while Yuri’s frown deepened. And here he was hoping to beat Yuuri...

“H-How…?” Leo breathed in disbelief as Yuuri secured first place for all three laps  _ and  _ managed to not only throw bananas and shells, but also throw them  _ all  _ at Leo’s Daisy cart. Guang Hong’s mouth stayed dropped as Yuri’s eyes widened at how  _ easily  _ Yuuri managed to fly by all of them in this narrow ass road. 

Yuuri shrugged. “Dunno. Probably my gay powers activate on this map and I get like ten million times stronger.” 

“Yuuri, that doesn’t work when we’re  _ all  _ gay.” Guang Hong reasoned. 

“I mean, yeah. But I’m the most  _ powerful  _ gay.” 

“Shut up, you were straight once.” Leo rolled his eyes.

“Okay, when?”

“Yuuko, remember?” Phichit threw his buddy under the bus with a giddy smile. Yuuri flipped him off. 

“We’re playing this map again! It must have been a fucking fluke!” Yuri demanded, and Yuuri, with a secretive gleam of his eyes and a cunning curl of his lips, nodded in agreement.

“Sure, let’s do this.” 

He won every single one on Rainbow Road. And because they spent so much time attempting to beat the unbeatable, Yuuri slowly made his way up the podium until he was in second place; he managed to sneakily one-up Yuri, who yelped in rage when he realized he was played and landed with bronze. Leo, fortunately, came out with first this time.

“You fools.” Phichit shook his head sadly, but he fist bumped his best friend. “You all just got  _ played _ .” 

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


Another three, almost four, weeks passed by rapidly. It was nothing but a blur of supportive friends, a few calls and texts from his loving family, and a spam of memes from Phichit. Speaking of the male, his trial for the  _ not murder  _ was the same day Yuuri’s last class was on, yet he still spammed Yuuri with random texts just before his trial. Fortunately, things seemed to be going well seeing as another two hours passed and no call from Phichit presented itself--no heart wrenching wails as he was handcuffed and thrown into a rusty, dirty jail.

Yuuri’s overactive imagination and paranoia aside, the day was truly beautiful for a cold, December day in Detroit (especially being so close to the Canadian border where the harsh blizzards and negative degree weather rivalled Russia’s). Yuuri wasn’t about to complain and jinx it however--he never really got the hang of driving in the snow and ice, so it was a relief to not freeze his frostbitten fingers--even the breeze managed to seep past his gloves--while he shovelled off snow from his car and the surrounding road.

The Japanese male decided to stroll around the campus since weather was so agreeable today. He found a bench tucked underneath a gnarled, black tree, it’s death from the cold winter a relatable thing to Yuuri so he found solace sitting beneath his newfound friend. Yuuri scrounged out a torn, beaten book he never came around to finishing from the depths of crumpled papers from last year and a few assignments he received from this semester. Nonetheless, he opened the dog-eared book and began to pace himself.

The afternoon sun peaked at its center point in the milky sky as Yuuri shifted, his leg crossing over the other one. He munched on a tiny pastry crammed underneath his books and squished beyond recognition; the breakfast treat probably rotted away in the darkness of his bag, but it didn’t smell foul and these sort of products typically lasted another year past the expiration date anyway. He breathed in fake strawberry jam while following the intricate storyline.

So deeply immersed into the story, Yuuri didn’t realize his phone was buzzing--and had been inconsistently going off for the past five minutes--until he shifted once more and the vibration became more prominent on his thigh. He jumped in alarm at the sudden strange sensation before balancing his book on the other end of the bench and dragging his phone out of his pocket. 

The first thing he noticed was the several missed calls from Phichit (oh no) and the various messages that became less clear as they dinged faster on his phone. He was almost afraid his device would break from how much his roommate was spamming, but the other male grew suspiciously quiet after two minutes. Yuuri worriedly scrunched his eyebrows together as he dialed Phichit back; when Phichit’s voice echoing his cheery voicemail picked up instead of the actual man, Yuuri became more anxious.

What if Phichit was found guilty and thrown into jail and his last few calls were his final words before he would be stuck in jail for the rest of his life, or worse-- _ put on death row _ (even as highly improbable as it was). What if something awful happened at the time of the trial? Like a crazy psychopath loaded with a gun or a knife or even a bomb? What if Phichit got out of the trial fine but there was a shooting down the street? What if--

_ “YOU! I WANNA TAKE YOU TO A GAY BAR! I WANNA TAKE YOU TO A GAY BAR, GAY BAR!”  _ Yuuri nearly screamed at the sudden rambunctious song emitting from his phone. He scrambled with the device before promptly silencing his phone with a blush high up on his cheeks. Fortunately, since it was the last day for most people, not many groups littered the campus other than a few stray people going to their next class.

“Hello? Guang Hong?” Yuuri greeted. He bit his lip as shallow breathing exuded from his speakers in a static wave. He was half tempted to hang up and call again before a sudden burst of laughter cut him off. 

“ _ Yuuri, oh my god. _ ” Guang Hong snorted before dissolving into another round of hearty guffaws. Yuuri confusedly stared past a few dead trees, his eyes finally locating a random stranger walking a service dog. His eyes trailed after the poodle’s tail, the swish-swish of the appendage calming him down for the most part.

“Guang Hong, what’s going on?” He questioned while shaking his leg in a nervous habit. “Is this about Phichit?” 

Guang Hong snorted again.  _ “What gave it away? The texts saying ‘help me, I’m dead’ or the fact that he probably called you like ten times?”  _ Yuuri rolled his eyes despite his quaking nerves. Hopefully Guang Hong’s light joking tone meant that Phichit wasn’t in immediate danger (like facing death or the consequences of breaking the law).

Yuuri sighed, “What happened this time?” 

“ _ I dunno. _ ” Guang Hong’s voice wobbled with laughter. “ _ Why don’t you come to the hospital and find out? _ ” He replied through stifled giggles.

“WHAT?! THE HOSPITAL?!” Yuuri burst out as he rose up from his seat abruptly. He wedged his phone in between the crook of his neck and his ear as he quickly packed up his book and swung the messenger bag around his shoulders with one hand. It was a bit difficult trying to stay connected to the phone for updates while packing up, but he managed his best.

“ _ Look, I’m at the hospital right now with Leo--you know, the one where all my family keeps pestering me to work at because most of them work there--and we were so worried, but uh. This is a pretty, um, interesting scenario. _ ” 

“Are you going to actually tell me instead of giving me cryptic codes or do I have to find out myself when I’m in the hospital?” Yuuri tiredly asked as he lightly jogged over to the ancient artifact that was his car. The raven haired male sighed once more after hearing a nervous chuckle from his younger friend, and he carelessly threw his bag to the side in order to situate himself into his seat. After buckling up, Yuuri started up his loudly humming car and sank back into the chair.

“ _ Sorry, I would tell you, but… It’ll ruin the surprise. _ ” 

“Surprise?” 

“ _ Whoops. I worded that wrong. Like the suspense, you know? Don’t worry, Phichit isn’t dying. _ ” Guang Hong visibly winced, his phone jostling with him as another voice croaked out loudly, “ _ YES, I AM! _ ” The call cut off after that, presumably because the hospital bed ridden man lunged for the phone and disconnected it instead.

Yuuri shook his head and wondered if his life would ever be normal as he backed up out of the deserted student parking lot and drove towards the exact same hospital that Leo landed Seung-Gil into. He sighed, rubbed his aching temples, and murmured a thousand prayers to any deity willing to listen to his humble wishes. 

Why couldn’t he just live a normal, boring life without handsome rent-a-boyfriend strangers and troublesome danger-magnet friends? God, Yuuri could go for a fucking beer right now, he thought as the car behind him honked at his slow ass car starting up. 

“Fuck you too, rich asshole.” Yuuri muttered as the Ferrari owner behind him switched lanes just to pop up in front of Yuuri’s old ass car. The Japanese male firmly reminded himself to be strong, to  _ not fucking lose it  _ just because another impatient driver wanted to go faster. He found comfort in the thought of said driver being pulled over by a police officer for speeding, and with that recurring idea keeping his sanity intact, Yuuri dragged his car over to the hospital Guang Hong’s family run and desperately hoped Leo would agree to ramp off his body with his car.

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


“Hey, Yuuri.” Phichit chuckled awkwardly as he scratched his cheek. The color of light blue (or green? Whatever) didn’t quite match with the Thai man, but Yuuri had better and more important things to think about than fashion choices. Yuuri crossed his arms as he noticed Phichit’s right leg propped up with a cast. 

“What did you do this time?” 

Phichit wildly threw his arms up in outrage before cringing at the sudden movement cascading down to his broken leg. “Why do you automatically assume these things? Like  _ I  _ purposefully got my leg broken for you sick people and your goddamn entertainment!” The brown eyed man ended his rant with a pout and his own tightly crossed arms, hands stuck under his armpit. Yuuri sighed, feeling another migraine pounding at his brain’s door before switching over to a bulldozer.

“Okay, okay, I get it. Where’s Guang Hong and Leo?” Yuuri changed the topic. Phichit pouted as he blew air out of his mouth slowly in frustration. His coal black bangs flew up on his head from his actions before Phichit slumped back against the pillow with a stiff upper lip.

“Somewhere.” Yuuri resisted the urge to sigh  _ again  _ at his friend’s dubious answer.

“Do you want to talk about how this happened or…?” 

“Why don’t you ask your little friend?” Phichit huffed out; he refused to catch Yuuri’s eye, even when Yuuri walked over to stand next to his bed.

“Uh, my dick?” Yuuri offered as a joke. The small quirk of Phichit’s lip counted as a victory for him, although the smile vanished just as fast as it appeared.

“ _ You’re  _ a dick,” Phichit snapped back with little heat before he gestured over to the outside of the room. “Ask Yuri.” 

“Yuri? As in the angry Russian teenager that you call your son every minute of your life?” 

“Yeah, that one.” 

“Um… Okay…” Yuuri swiftly exited from the room since Phichit refused to budge. Yuuri searched around the outside of Phichit’s hospital room before finally catching light blond hair and a familiar leopard printed jacket with his hood over his head. He was speaking quietly to his friend, Otabek, as they loitered around the vending machine. Yuuri strolled over to his younger friend’s side. He smiled politely at Otabek before turning to Yuri, whose eyes darted over to the exit sign as if it would save him.

“Okay, what happened? Phichit refuses to tell me and Leo and Guang Hong are nowhere to be seen.” He frowned in thought, “Actually, I don’t think Seung-Gil is even here.” 

“No, he’s here. He’s off getting burgers and a milkshake for Phichit.” Yuri notified him. Yuuri nodded in appreciation. He noticed that the younger Yuri still refused to stare him in the eye, so he assumed it had something to do with him.

“Hey, Yuri. It’s not your fault. Whatever happened… Phichit probably deserved it. He can get out of control sometimes and his mouth doesn’t really have a filter and--” 

“I CAN HEAR YOU, ASSHOLE!” Phichit hollered. Nurses whispered as they side eyed Yuuri then the room where the patient currently sulked in. Yuuri chose to ignore the gut wrenching beginnings of a panic attack for the sake of just finding out information on Phichit’s unfortunate accident. 

“It wasn’t his fault.” Yuri admitted, finally meeting Yuuri’s eyes. He bit his lip as he side eyed his friend, who took the look as an initiative to begin telling the tragic story of Phichit, his broken leg, and how Yuri and Otabek was involved in this whole cluster.

“It was mine.” Otabek confessed, but in the most blank attitude possible. Yuuri blinked. He’s seen dead fish with more emotion than this guy. 

“Um, how did it happen?” He pressed since Otabek wasn’t exactly the most talkative and left the room in a tense silence after his statement. Yuuri wondered if it was possible to  _ die  _ from having a gigantic migraine, and if so, would it be painful? It would definitely be worth it to just  _ end his life  _ instead of living the joke romcom soap opera television drama he currently lived in.

“I drove over him.” Otabek plainly stated as if he didn’t just admit to nearly murdering Yuuri’s roommate. Yuuri’s eyes widened in panic. 

“You did  _ what _ ?!” The blond, sensing the older man’s disbelief and the beginnings of a furious rant, quickly butt in and stood in front of Otabek as if to shield the other with his smaller, thinner body. It would have been cute if Yuuri wasn’t so baffled at how nonchalant Otabek was about  _ attempted murder _ . Yeah right, see you in the court, asshole.

“What Otabek _ meant to fucking say _ (Yuri glared at Otabek for his blunt wording) was that he didn’t see Phichit when he was starting up his engine and well, like the idiot he was, he drove into Phichit and basically flattened over him.” 

“How do you even---” Yuuri facepalmed so hard he swore his future generations could feel it, “Is it hard to get a motorcycle license or something?” 

“No?” Otabek blinked in confusion.

“Then how did you manage to fucking get one when you can’t even check your surroundings when you’re driving?!” Yuuri bellowed. He panted heavily, ignoring the whispers from the chattering nurses who  _ should be doing their work _ instead of gossiping about the millennials as fucking psychopaths or something. Like shut up, you’re a millennial too.

“In Otabek’s defense, Phichit didn’t look both fucking ways either. He just ran out into the street with this dumbass grin on his face.” Yuri protested back. Otabek just blinked owlishly again, a near touched expression on his face from his friend protecting him. Yuri flushed, but flipped him off anyway to stay in character.

“Fucking  _ Phichit _ .” Yuuri moaned as he imagined the cost of the hospital bill and the fact that all of this could have been avoided if Phichit just  _ looked both ways  _ before crossing the street--you know, basic shit you learn when you’re a child. Yuuri wobbled unsteadily on his feet before he firmly planted a hand on the wall. His other hand slowly dragged down his face as he tried to calculate the numbers with a jumbled, trash filled mind. 

“Hey,” Otabek lightly touched his shoulder, and Yuuri spazzed about human contact. Otabek swept his bangs out of his eyes before crossing his arms. “I’m sorry this all happened.” Yuuri waved him away.

“This would have been avoided, if  _ someone  _ looked both ways before crossing the street!” He punctuated the last half of the sentence with a clipped tone. 

“Ugh!” Phichit groaned just as loudly, “Can everyone get off my fucking case?! I was just so  _ happy  _ to be done with that trial--which proved I was  _ not  _ guilty by the way! Thanks for the fucking congratulations!” 

“Congratulations! You landed us in even more debt, you dumb egg.” Yuuri retorted and smiled in satisfaction when that shut his roommate up. 

“I could pay for the hospital bill.” Otabek offered out of the blue. Yuuri startled at the other’s voice--he was not expecting the other’s deep voice to suddenly permeate the air like perfume--before he smiled, lips tight and eyes betraying the exhaustion of his mental state.

“Don’t worry about it, Otabek. I can’t ask you to pay this much for an accident that wasn’t even your fault in the first place.” 

“I still feel guilty for hurting your friend,” Otabek responded back in a hard tone that showed he was  _ not  _ taking no for an answer. Yuuri’s smile nearly snapped off his face from the tone.

“You’re younger than me and Phichit. We can handle ourselves just fine. Thank you for the offer, but we’re  _ fine _ .” 

“I have enough money--” 

“OK, THAT’S IT!” Yuri interrupted the passive aggressive argument in front of him as he pointed at Yuuri with a threatening snarl that the older male used to fear back before he knew the teenager, “Just fucking accept his offer, fucking moron. Beka’s like rich as fuck and you and Phichit are poor college students with student debt. You’re dumber than Phichit if you can’t even see that he’s  _ trying  _ to fucking help you. Moron.” The last part he tacked on was  _ not  _ necessary, but Yuri had a solid argument. Yuuri was pretty impressed by the kid’s persuasion skills.

“...Okay…” Yuuri hesitated. “But at least let me make you food or something. I feel like I’m conning a kid.” 

Otabek opened his mouth, but Yuri beat him to it. “Just accept it. Katsudon is just as stubborn as you. Also, his food is ama--tolerable. It’s okay, yeah.” Smooth.

“...Fine.” Otabek grunted as confirmation. Yuuri nodded, feeling significantly better now that he knew he wouldn’t have to start working triple shifts again. 

“Thanks, Otabek. Sorry I kind of, uh, snapped at you.” Yuuri apologized and sheepishly laughed. Otabek just shook his head. 

“It’s okay.” And that was that. Yuuri wondered how Yuri normally hung out with the other male if he was as articulate as he was with Yuuri. The older male couldn’t help but smile fondly at the both of them anyway before ruffling Yuri’s hair. As to be expected, Yuri reacted akin to a growling kitten and beat his hands away with sharp “claws”.

Yuuri smiled. 

“YUURI, THANK GOD I FOUND YOU!” Guang Hong yelped as he sprinted over to Yuuri as soon as he spotted him. “PHICHIT MANAGED TO CONVINCE A NURSE TO GIVE HIM A WHEELCHAIR AND NOW HE’S ON THE RUN!” 

The smile on Yuuri’s face faded as Guang Hong continued to explain the hectic situation. 

“THEY TRIED TO TRANQUILIZE HIM BUT HE’S STILL GOING STRONG!” 

“YOU’LL NEVER CATCH ME ALIVE!” Phichit’s voice boomed throughout the halls. 

“PHICHIT, FUCKING STOP! IT TOOK ME FOREVER TO GET GUANG HONG’S PARENTS TO LIKE ME! STOP BEFORE YOU TALK TO REASON AND PERSUASION!” 

“Is this really the time to be quoting  _ Shrek _ ?” Yuri dryly asked. Otabek just shrugged.

Yuuri sighed for about the millionth time that day. “I’ll get Seung-Gil.” 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why is phichit like this


	7. plant a moonflower in my lungs and watch it flourish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be honest with your feelings, be true to other people, and the world will smile upon you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first things first i recently started the spring semester for college and let's just say im already suffering :)))) jk it's actually p chill im like okay with my classes... I dont hate them... yet... anyway that's why i havent updated in a week... shocker i know
> 
> idk i dont have a lot to say so uh??? unbetad, etc, the usual 
> 
> but two fun facts: 
> 
> 1) this chapter was not supposed to be written like this??? it's a lot more romantic and fluffy than i wanted bc i just wanted anGST but nope that didn't happen congrats yall dont have to suffer (yet)
> 
> 2) i cried at least 5 times while writing this.... im just a sappy fool leave me be,,,,,,,,

 

 

 

It’s on a drearier December day when Yuuri is sifting through his clothes to pack for the annual Christmas trip to Japan that his phone vibrates to life, a simple jingle of wind chimes that informs him of the new message. He hums, assuming that it’s Phichit as he wails about his cast and how absolutely  _ dreadful  _ it is to never be able to walk again, as he reaches over to his phone, unlocks it, and clicks on the messaging app.

He gapes. For instead of Phichit’s complaints via text or any other random texts from Leo, Guang Hong, Yurio, or even Seung-Gil and Otabek, it’s a fucking text from  _ Viktor _ . Yuuri’s lips are thin, smooth lines akin to a blank music sheet as he drills holes into his phone as if to erase the offending text with his withering glare.

Yuuri sighs. The text is there, in obvious blocky letters that his brain embraces and helpfully adds a headache from squinting at the message. It’s no Egyptian hieroglyphic, yet he attempts to crack the code behind it. In the end, he’s just left with an even bigger, confused headache and the watering of his eyes for staring at the phone for too long.

**How are you?** Is all the text says. It’s casual, like a boss declaring Tuesdays to be “Casual Tuesdays” with the office groaning in relief/disbelief at the sudden announcement. Except Yuuri isn’t working in office, isn’t on a comedy tv show “The Office”, and isn’t even remotely close to employing at one either.

He’s just a dumbfounded Yuuri, eyeing the text in equal parts mistrust and disbelief while the hot Russian guy he’s been crushing on just messaged him as if he hadn’t cut off all contact with Yuuri for the past what--two weeks? Not that Yuuri is counting, but he’s just a little puzzled at the strange message.

He spends another ten minutes debating on what to write back before settling on a short, “ _ I’m good, how about you?”  _ that sounds awfully forced to him, but what does he know? Most messages he’s ever read typically never hold any emotions past a few emoticons, but Yuuri already decided that emoticons were too friendly and opted to exclude them from his painfully  _ normal  _ text. 

It’s disconcerting how easily Viktor slides back in his life. Viktor messages one apology and explains the mechanics of his job which, as interesting as it is, is  _ not  _ something Yuuri needed to know. By the time Viktor is done explaining his  _ intriguing  _ experience with a very  _ very  _ possessive partner, Yuuri’s mind is spinning with apologies, grimaces, and a sympathetic smile.

**Call?** Viktor texts casually with no emoticons like his past ten previous ones had. Yuuri bites his lip, rolls his bottom one under his numb teeth, and wonders if saying “no” would elicit a sad emoji face or a nonchalant “ok”. Unfortunately, Yuuri’s finger spazzes and the half no/okay automatically translates to “okay” before sending.

“ _ Fuck _ .” Yuuri utters softly with horror. He was  _ not  _ ready. Especially not when his phone began playing that dumb “Can’t Help Falling in Love” Elvis song that Phichit changed while he was showering. The raven haired man spent five seconds breathing in and out before finally accepting the call with a deep exhale of panicked air.

“ _ Hello, Yuuri!”  _ Viktor greets happily, and a dumb longing catches at Yuuri’s throat as he realizes exactly  _ how much  _ he misses the handsome man. His voice is just like in his dreams: all pretty tones and husky tenors that belong in a choir instead of across a staticy line with bad reception on Yuuri’s side.

“Hey Viktor.” Yuuri weakly replies with less enthusiasm. He’s still unsure about the relationship they had and a huge part of him is screaming at him to end it early before his heart is broken into itty bitty glass pieces.

_ “How have you been? I’m sorry I haven’t been able to talk for so long…”  _  Viktor’s voice hitches at the end, and a small flutter of hope billows into Yuuri’s hope like a rising cloud of steam. Yuuri subconsciously tightens his cold, death like grip on his shirt as his heart begins despicable somersaults and other acrobatic moves that would win him the Olympics.

“It’s okay. I’ve been okay.” He clears his throat after his abnormally soft voice drifts across the line, never to return to his aching throat. “Um, h-how are you?” 

Viktor laughs softly, prettily, the sound diving down to Yuuri’s curling up toes.   _ “My… Client was a lot more demanding than my past ones.”  _ His laughter melts into a shuddering sigh, similar to the quiver of Yuuri’s spine at his breathy exhale. 

“That’s terrible.” Yuuri comments for lack of anything decent to say. He’s no better at conversing with Viktor than before, when they were sitting on Viktor’s couch discussing about the program. Yuuri mentally slaps himself for his awkward, hollow voice.

Another sigh, another tremble.  _ “It’s what makes money, unfortunately. I wish everyone was as understanding as you, Yuuri _ .” The way his name unfurls from Viktor’s lips, breathed like a prayer, strikes a pang of hunger and yearning deep in his stomach, mixing with the rest of the conflicted, anxious knotted intestines in his lower body.

“Uh, yeah.” Yuuri lamely says as he wets his lips, “I’m sorry you had to deal with someone like that.” He briefly wonders if that Chris guy was Viktor’s new client. It did make sense after all: the nudity, the amused expression, the reason he answered the door instead of Viktor. Yuuri swallowed nervously as he wondered whether or not Viktor allowed sexual antics with his contract; the hot pit of his boiling stomach fervently wished yes while his mind admonished him for his obvious thirst.

Viktor hums in delight,  _ “You’re too nice, Yuuri. I’m surprised you’re still single--unless you aren’t?”  _ His tone is carefully neutral-- _ unreadable _ \--as Yuuri fumbles with his words. A crimson hue is already beginning to emerge onto his cheeks like a fiery vengeance, like tasting some of Phichit’s and Guang Hong’s spicier homemade dishes.

“I-I--!” Yuuri flushes in shame, “I’m not dating anyone at the moment.” His voice is near silent, “I don’t think anyone actually wants to date me though.” 

_ “Yuuri!”  _ Viktor is supremely shocked, judging by the shrill gasp of his name.  _ “You are a beautiful, kind, caring person. Anyone who is with you is lucky enough to call you as theirs.”  _ Yuuri’s flush threatens to flood down south, but he scrunches up his face weirdly to suppress the dumb flitter of his agitated heart and the choir like voices singing praises in his head--which sounded more and more suspiciously like the wedding march.

“I-I’m not that great!” Yuuri stammers, but Viktor is not having any of his self depreciating thoughts.

_ “Yes, you are, Yuuri! And I’ll show you.”  _ His determined, unwavering voice only seems to worry Yuuri even more as he fiercely shakes his head and dispels his lovestruck, seductive thoughts of how Viktor would  _ show  _ him.

“No, no, no! It’s fine! You don’t have to show me  _ anything _ !” He stresses out, even if his mind is yelling at him to just take the chance, to allow this one last whatever it is he and Viktor have to happen as a fleeting memory. His mind is a whirlwind of arguments between his saner self and his reckless one, and Yuuri just wishes that he could have had a crush on someone simpler, like the USPS man or the kind smiling cashier who always cheerfully said “Have a nice day!” to Yuuri after he bagged up his things and left.

_ “But, Yuuri,”  _ and here comes the whining,  _ “I haven’t seen you in months! At least let me take you out for coffee! I will even let you pick our next date!”  _ Fuck.  _ Date _ , he had said casually. A fucking  _ date _ with Viktor. A date with  _ Viktor _ . Yuuri was sure his heart stopped and he succumbed to a lucid dream within the confines of a coma. 

“D-Date?” Yuuri asks in confusion. 

_ “Oops, I accidentally said that aloud.”  _ Viktor’s embarrassed tone only seems to amplify Yuuri’s beating heart, and the longing etched into his throat is a prominent, persistent thing that beats at his heart and his pounding head like a set of drums.

_ “Anyway, as your friend, shouldn’t we hang out after not seeing each other for a long time?”  _ Yuuri is positive Viktor is physically pouting.  _ “I want to see you!”  _ Yuuri is also faintly positive that his face is redder than a boiled crab and has been since he took the call. 

“Uh, sure?” His voice is not his own as he robotically says, “I’m more free since like the semester is over and I’m on break. But, I can’t hang out after the 15th--that’s the day I fly to Japan.” 

_ “Japan? Wow! Can you meet up with me tomorrow? I’ll take you out for breakfast!”  _ Yuuri is vaguely aware of how much it’s sounding more and more like a date, but he doesn’t comment. Instead, he breathes in sharply, squares his shoulders, and blinks the stardust excitement out of his eyes.

“Okay.” He says. 

_ “Perfect! I’ll pick you up at nine!”  _ He squeals. After a bit more pleasantries between the two--and time is blurred to Yuuri from how  _ shocked  _ he is at agreeing to meet up with Viktor so soon after crying for the guy for  _ five days _ \--and a sharp reminder of being there at nine, Viktor hangs up first with a dreamy sound of a blown kiss that turns Yuuri’s knees to jelly. 

Immediately after, he dials his irritable best friend to confirm that  _ yes,  _ Viktor had just asked him out for breakfast at a cozy diner that he found on the outskirts of town. Yuuri impatiently bounces his leg up and down as the phone continues to drone on before Phichit’s annoyed voice finally broke through.

_ “What do you want?”  _ Yuuri’s lip is nearly raw from how much he’s been gnawing at it. His mouth stings from the constant abuse and he can barely hear past the foggy constraint his uncomprehending mind has him in. 

“Phichit, oh my  _ god _ .” 

_ “Yuuri? You sound really happy. Like happier than the one time you finally performed Clair de Lune without messing up.”  _

“V-Viktor! He--he--he…!” Yuuri blabbers a string of other words that he’s not sure is Japanese or English or both. Phichit sighs heavily, but his voice is a lot lighter than before.

_ “Okay, calm down, buddy. You’re gonna have to breath before you like pass out on me and I’m sent back to prison for attempted murder or something. Then, you know, my dumbass will probably be mauled over by another fucking motorcycle. Maybe even the same one from last time, but this time Yurio is riding it and he’s on fire, and the bike is on fire, and everything’s on fire because we’re in fucking hell.”  _

“ _ Jesus,  _ Phichit.” Well, that definitely was a damper to his amazing mood. “Are you visiting New York or something, Phi? Cause that attitude was  _ not  _ appreciated.” Yuuri adopts the motherly role easily enough, slides right into the custom cookie cutter like a perfectly fitting pair of comfortable shoes. 

Phichit quiets before tiredly sighing.  _ “Sorry, Yuu. I’ve just been super stressed out. I don’t think I passed my music class and I’ve been getting really mad with how goddamn dependent I’ve been acting!”  _

“Aren’t you like always dependent on other people?” Yuuri teases.

A thoughtful pause.  _ “I mean, yeah, but more dependent on people than I usually am. I had to ask Seung-Gil to put his snacks on a lower shelf since I can’t exactly climb up or uh balance myself on one leg while trying to reach for a fucking bag of Doritos.”  _

“I’m sorry, Phi. I know it’s hard now, but in a few months, you’ll be laughing about the time you got hit by Otabek’s motorcycle.” 

_ “It’s not funny now though!”  _ Phichit grumbles and yet also seems to whine at the same time. Yuuri is mildly impressed by the feat.

“I know, Phi. Just bear with it for a little longer okay? I promise I’ll bring back a bunch of your favorite snacks from Japan if you behave.” 

_ “Ugh, Yuuri. You make being angry really fucking hard when you’re like a saint.”  _ Phichit complains. He sounds a little less stressed however, so Yuuri counts that as a victory on his part.

“Even when I play Madonna albums in the car and steal all your leggings and socks?” 

_ “...You’re really pushing it, Yuuri. Even though my leg is broken, I’m not afraid to throw my clutches at you and crawl the rest of the way to beat your ass.”  _

“I mean, can you even  _ reach  _ that high?” Yuuri grinned as he heard nothing but static on the other line. Without another word, Phichit abruptly hung up, causing Yuuri to snort out an ugly pig like laugh. 

_ Ding! One unread message _ . 

 

**i hate u get ready to find a bunch of unfinished puzzles and mismatched socks in dark places of the house**

 

Another ding. 

 

**square up m8 ur gonna catch more than these hands by the time im done with u ^_O#**

 

Yuuri just laughed. 

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

At exactly nine o’clock, no sooner or later and even down to the last second, Viktor’s sharp rap on the door roused Yuuri from his worried pacing across the floor. He swore he managed to saw through the wood from how frantically he strode around the hardwood.

“Good morning, Yuuri!” Viktor brandished a sweet smelling bouquet of burgundy roses and white-yellow primroses craftily located in artistic places. Yuuri’s eyes widened at the sight of the beautiful flowers and he gingerly reached out to gather the bundle without jostling it out of the securely knotted pink ribbon around the stems. With no film cover around the body of plants, Yuuri stuck the bouquet close to his nose to catch a whiff of the natural, lovely scent of the flowers.

“Oh, Viktor…” Yuuri’s eyes crinkled with his wide smile. A small sprinkling of pink dotted Viktor’s nose and cheeks like freckles as Yuuri clutched the flowers tighter to his chest. 

_ “Thank you.”  _ The black haired man hummed as he smiled down at the thornless roses and budding primroses. He hummed a light tune as he rushed off to find a vase for the lovely bouquet. Yuuri giggled softly to himself as pink touched his ears at the thought of this  _ not- _ date. He glided on cloud nine when he returned to an awaiting Viktor, clad in a dark maroon cardigan, grey v-neck, black jeans, and a pair of dark blue slip ons.

Viktor flashed him a handsome, crooked smile that nearly made Yuuri swoon. “Are you ready to go?” Yuuri nodded, giggling sweetly as he took Viktor’s outstretched arm and wrapped his own around the crook of the other’s elbow.

“You look amazing today, by the way.” Viktor offhandedly complimented as he led Yuuri over to his fancy car. Yuuri blushed, despite his conflicted feelings, and stared down at his old rain boots. Today, he decided on a lavender oversized sweater with snowflakes and a large pair of pink skates sewn onto it, a pair of light blue denim shorts, and transparent rain boots with light pink lining and baby blue ankle socks. In his bangs, a small pink hair clip barely clipped his bangs to one side, but he liked it because of the cute red hearts on it.

“So do you.” Yuuri appreciatively gave Viktor a once-over with an almost confident smile on his face. Viktor grinned back. He unlocked the door and ushered Yuuri in before gently shutting the door behind him, like a true gentleman. Yuuri’s heart buzzed with his nerves as the familiar scent of cinnamon, chocolate, and the spicy cologne Viktor usually wore wove into his nose.

Viktor didn’t notice his pink face as he buckled in and drove off into the semi-busy streets of Detroit. The light jazz music accompanying the sweet atmosphere between the duo mitigated the anxiety within Yuuri as he slunk back into the comfy chair. He breathed in Viktor’s intoxicating scent with a pleased smile; Yuuri didn’t see Viktor’s idiotic grin spreading across his cheeks at his actions, and probably for the better. 

When they arrived at the homey diner, Yuuri’s mouth shaped into a soft “o” with pursed, plush lips that Viktor’s eyes strayed to more than often. He was escorted into the soft cafe: aside from looking like grandma’s house with window sills full of swaying daisies, it was a pretty place with sky blue walls, more potted plants, and cream colored tables. In the middle of each table was a small vase with one lone flower--each different for every table--and a small white candle handle with presumably, a candle.

“Do you like it?” Viktor asked with a hint of nervousness as the waiter guided them to an empty table. Yuuri glimpsed down at the golden menu for a second before raising his head to smile endearingly at the silver haired male.

“It’s a really pretty cafe.” Yuuri responded with a grin. His eyes shone brighter than the sun reflecting on snow as he breathed in the calming ambiance. 

“Yeah, that’s why I chose it.” Viktor said, but his eyes never left Yuuri’s. The raven haired male averted his eyes with a sudden bashfulness coating his cheeks with a light bubblegum hue. His breath caught in his throat; his lips would not stop trying to curl into a larger smile. The fact that Viktor  _ thought  _ of Yuuri while browsing for a place to take Yuuri out on a  _ date  _ (yes, he was finally going to admit it what with realizing that Chris most likely was a client,  _ nothing more _ ) tingled something fiercely fond within his chest, fluttering like lavender butterfly wings on his heart.

Yuuri ended up ordering a blueberry pancake combo that included a side of hash browns, two eggs any style (scrambled for him), and a choice of meat (sausage links, he decided). Viktor chose coffee as a beverage and a light breakfast of eggs benedict and a side of “fresh” fruit. He promised to share his side with Yuuri, but the latter only laughed and shook his head.

“I have more than enough, Viktor.” Yuuri rolled his eyes before joking lightly, “You’re not trying to fatten me up, are you? Maybe _eat_ me up?” He was a little out of his comfort zone with the light flirting, but Yuuri surged onwards, intent as a soldier and as confident as his anxiety allowed him. Maybe it was the nice weather or the fact that Viktor actually seeked him out _first_. There was something liberating and invigorating to have such a handsome man like Viktor ask him out; it was nice to be chased for once instead of the other way.

Viktor’s eyes slid to a half mast as a coy smile played on his lips. “Maybe I am,  _ Yuuri _ .” He fluttered his eyelashes, beckoning, while one of his legs slowly wound around Yuuri’s ankle. Yuuri flushed; he surveyed the area for any curious onlookers. They were not committing any  _ dirty  _ acts, but Yuuri still felt a giddy sense of exhilaration as the toe of Viktor’s shoe slid agonizingly slow up his calf and strayed near his naked knee.

“Here’s your order!” The server smiled slightly as they sat down the two large breakfast platters. “Is there anything else I can do for you today?” The waiter pointedly stared at the handsome Russian man with a sickly sweet smile that turned the chocolate milk Yuuri was sipping on sour.

“No.” Viktor responded without even removing his eyes from Yuuri. Yuuri smiled, pleased. He bat his eyelashes innocently up at the server, whose smile slowly dripped off their face like the melting wax of the candle. An awkward expression befell on their face before they sauntered away with a clipped, “enjoy your meal,” that held less enthusiasm than family members at a funeral.

Yuuri dug into his breakfast as soon as the server walked away to cater to another table. He hummed in joy as the delicious blueberry pancakes drenched in maple syrup layered along his tongue in a sweet sensation. He moaned lightly at the taste of whipped cream on his tongue, a blissed out expression on his visage as he washed down the pancakes with a swig of milk. When he turned back to ask Viktor about his own meal, he noticed how tense the other man appeared with a hard gleam in his eye.

“Viktor?” Yuuri worriedly asked. “Are you okay?” 

“Fine. I’m fine.” Viktor replied with a faux grin on his face. His twitching fingers finally sought out the untouched bundle of utensils wrapped up in a napkin before he unraveled it and dug out his fork and knife. With fluid motions, he sawed off a piece of egg and English muffin to pop into his mouth with his own delightful moan. Yuuri just left it at that with a small shrug of his shoulders. Maybe the eggs benedict dish was absolutely delicious.

Well, that’s what he thought until Viktor continued to  _ moan  _ every damn time the fork inserted into his mouth. And each time he stuck a microscopic piece of his breakfast into his mouth, a louder, more sinful noise would project from his throat. Yuuri glared at him heatedly with rosy red cheeks for him to just  _ stop _ , but the other man merely winked at him, grinned with the viciousness of the time Leo roasted Phichit’s ass  _ and  _ sent Seung-Gil to the hospital. 

“Viktor, oh my god.” Yuuri exasperatedly whined after Viktor’s moan raised a few heads over to their table. A younger teenager group whispered obnoxiously at the attractive man and eyed Yuuri up and down before embarking on a mission to find out whether or not Yuuri was fondling Viktor under the table with his foot. Their eyes peered directly down at the table, as if the heat from their glares would be able to ignite the long tablecloth covering the duo’s legs on fire.

“People are  _ staring _ , Viktor.” Yuuri gulped down the rest of his plate in the haste to  _ leave  _ the vicinity and wallow in his self-pity. He eventually settled on kicking Viktor’s foot harshly under the table. The silver haired man jolted at the shot of pain, but amusement lingered too cheerily in his eyes.

“Are you ashamed to be seen with me in public, Yuuri?” Viktor gasped melodramatically, even crumpling down to his elbows on the table and sniffling loudly. Yuuri rolled his eyes affectionately. He shook his head and--before he could regret the action--slid his warm palm over Viktor’s fingers, stroking the back of his hand with a thumb. Viktor looked like Yuuri just offered him a lifetime of riches: eyes more dazzling than diamonds and a crookedly handsome smile shining brighter than every star in the galaxy combined.

“Maybe I am.” Yuuri teased, laughing softly at Viktor’s pout. 

“Yuuri..!” Viktor whined in a high pitched voice. Yuuri pat his hand twice before taking his own hand back to finish up the last of his hash browns. Viktor silently focused on the last of his fruit bowl with a longing look that rarely left Yuuri’s side.

They finished their food in record time before a small squabble over who was paying the bill commenced between the two infatuated males. Yuuri scrunched his eyebrows together and wrinkled his nose as Viktor successfully outwitted him and slid his card over to the server (who favored Viktor more anyway, that cheat) with a brilliantly white smile. The server walked away in a daze, check and card in one hand. 

Yuuri pouted as he crossed his arms. “That’s not fair.” He grumbled in annoyance and pretended to be devastatingly upset with Viktor. Viktor, cheerful, grinning,  _ lovely,  _ annoying Viktor, mirrored his expression, but with a more practiced tilt of his head and a pathetically sad tremble of his lip. Yuuri only lasted five minutes (a feat really) before he broke down and sighed. 

“Next time, I’m paying.” His words shocked them both. There was going to be a  _ next  _ time?

“Oh, Yuuri!” Viktor’s excited grin--soft eyes and all--shut Yuuri’s mouth before he could correct himself. The Russian man smiled charmingly at him as they rose to their feet and strolled out of the cafe, Viktor’s hand lightly touching the middle of Yuuri’s back. Fire spread throughout his spine, tingling like electric shocks against his skin. He didn’t say a word of protest as they walked back to the car and Viktor gently closed the car door behind him. 

“Are you still free, Yuuri?” Viktor asked as he expertly maneuvered his sleek black car out of the tight parking lot and drove out onto more familiar streets. Yuuri pursed his lips as he wracked his brain for any other plans--not that he was terribly popular or social in the first place. The only thing he could think of was hanging out with either Phichit or Guang Hong (their respective partners flowed after them anyway; where Phichit went, Seung-Gil followed, etc), but he was almost certain both parties would be on a romantic date.

Yuuri sighed hopelessly, but he offered Viktor a tiny upturn of his lips to appease the other man’s curiosity. “Yes, I am. Where are you taking me now,  _ prince _ ?” He teased and tacked on the Japanese nickname at the end for good measure. Viktor hummed thoughtfully, the beginnings of a grin curling on the edges of his kissable lips.

“To our happily ever after.” His eyes strayed off the road for a second to pin Yuuri with a fond, doe eyed look. Yuuri flushed down to his toes as he carefully set his hand on top of Viktor’s right one that was resting innocently in the space between them. 

“I’m just kidding.” It didn’t sound like a joke. “I was thinking of renting roller skates and taking a walk around the park?” He suggested. Yuuri nodded in agreement. He was no sports fanatic nor a complete couch potato, but he did like to roller skate now and again, even with his awful balance and worse skating abilities.

“That sounds wonderful, Viktor.” Yuuri sank back against the car seat and inhaled the familiar scent of the other man. Viktor’s hand squeezed his palm and he squeezed back with a satisfied smile on his face. He never would tire of smiling and laughing around Viktor, even if a melancholic part of his brain reminded him of how intangible Viktor was.

_ I know _ , he mourned, clutching onto the other’s hand a little tighter.  _ I know, so let me have this little bit of joy before I let him go _ . 

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


They end up renting roller skates from a small shop filled with other fun outdoor activities such as biking, skateboarding, and scootering. Yuuri like how the pink ones match his outfit and Viktor grins as they match toe to toe on unsteady feet that carve jagged lines into the cement sidewalk as they cling onto each other. Both of them are bound to fall down anytime soon, but Yuuri is too busy laughing at the white knuckled hand clasped iron tight around his own.

“Viktor, it’s okay.” He soothingly said, but Viktor just whimpered and entwined both of his terrified arms around Yuuri’s waist. Yuuri, clumsy as he was, still had a bit more experience with being on “wheels of death”, as Viktor dubbed them, so he carefully steered the mess hanging off of him to a nearby bench. 

The sun blessed them today with warm rays that chased away the blizzard of the north for one day. Yuuri beamed up at the cloudy, milky sky while the white sun rays blanketed his exposed skin (mainly on his legs) with a warmth he hadn’t felt since September. 

“Viktor!” He screeched as the other man suddenly slid faster and the two hurled towards the bench at an alarming speed. Yuuri roughly landed on the wooden planks; he shut his eyes in the aftermath as a wince of pain sprouted near his backbone that was struck. A hiss slipped from his lips before Yuuri gently opened his eyes to inquire his companion’s current state. 

“Viktor, I told you not to--” He paused, the words shriveling off his lips from the heat of the sun in Viktor’s smile. His eyes swam with reflecting light; it reminded Yuuri of the pretty marbles he used to collect when he was younger, each a different shade of blue with a twist of another color. 

Now, with Viktor hovering above him and chortles bursting out of his mouth like a shaken soda can, Yuuri could only marvel at the crinkle of his eyes as the other man laughed, the veil of his silver spun silk hair from the way he floated above Yuuri, the dancing mirth written across softer lines of his face. Viktor was utterly breathtaking. He was a piece of heaven on earth, an ethereal being wrapped tight in a paradox like gift and presented to Yuuri with ribbons the same shade as the sky. 

Yuuri was in love. 

“You should have seen your face, Yuuri!” Viktor delightfully recounted the incident before with his own playful imitation of Yuuri’s worried face. Yuuri could only blink up at Viktor and wonder how the other man hadn’t yet noticed the predicament they were currently in. He didn’t mind the position they lay in, wouldn’t mind anything at the moment if he could just see Viktor unfurling like a blossoming candy pink dahlia, allowing Yuuri to slip his fingers past the seam of Viktor’s mask and catch stardust on his fingertips.

“Yuuri?” Viktor asked, his eyes searching Yuuri’s and only finding utmost peace and joy. Yuuri’s gentle curve of his lips caused the taller man’s breath to openly hitch, for their hearts to conjoin into one amazing being and beat as one.

A hypnotic pull drove Viktor to press his face a little closer, for his lips to part like he was the ocean and Yuuri the hand of a water mage. Yuuri’s eyes fluttered as sure as his hair was raven feathers and as sure as the sky is blue. The chocolate eyed man lightly brushed the pad of his fingers along the angular lines of Viktor’s chin. A content purr rose up in his chest at the thought of dying Viktor in his own colors, in lightly leaving behind his own presence as footsteps in the sand would.

“Yuuri…” Viktor softly whispered. His silky locks tickled Yuuri’s cheek and he giggled breathlessly. Viktor only eyed him with a fuzzy warmth that grazed Yuuri’s heart.

“Viktor,” he responded, eyes shutting as Viktor carefully traced the features of his face: his fingertips chased away the bitter cold nipping at his nose, caressed his cheeks as a lover would, wove delicate, loving symbols underneath his skin until he was sharing all the stars in his heart with Yuuri, until Yuuri could no longer tell what was himself, what was Viktor, what they  _ were _ . 

“You drive me insane, Yuuri Katsuki.” Viktor declared boldly; his sweet brushes on Yuuri’s skin contradicted his confident tone. He treated Yuuri like something preciously fragile, worshipping his face until Yuuri was sure  _ he  _ was the one going mad.

“So do you.” Yuuri laughed. “Your antics will be the death of me one day.” Viktor pouted. He rubbed the side of his face against Yuuri’s cheek like an attentive cat would as he whined pitifully in his throat. The smile on Yuuri’s face never disappeared as he tenderly cupped Viktor’s face. Viktor looked away, a small blush covering his cheeks. 

“That’s not what I meant…” Viktor grumbled but his body relaxed under Yuuri’s hold and Yuuri couldn’t help but sneak a quick peck on Viktor’s cheek. Viktor’s eyes scrunched up mirthfully and he leaned in for another kiss. Yuuri pushed him away with a teasing smile.

“You’re the one that wanted to skate, Viktor!” He lightly chided. Yuuri danced out of the way of Viktor’s clingy hold as he unsteadily rose up to his feet and slowly began to skate away.

“Yuuri!” Viktor gasped in betrayal. He frowned as the other man turned his head to grin at him before he drifted farther and farther away. “At least help me!” 

“Sorry, I’m too far away!” 

“Yuuri!” 

“Okay, okay. I’m coming back, old man.” 

“Don’t bully me!” Viktor complained as he watched Yuuri skate back to him. His hips swayed softly back and forth with his moving legs, and Viktor was utterly enraptured with the sight. Yuuri quirked an eyebrow at his dazed date for the day before yanking Viktor out of the safety of the grass and onto the icy sidewalk. 

“You’re a bully.” Yuuri snorted, winding Viktor’s arm around his waist and feeling less embarrassed about the public display of affection. 

“If I was a  _ real  _ bully, I would have left you there. I can leave now, if you want me to.” He separated himself away from Viktor’s hip, causing the other man to frantically hold his waist and pull him back towards him. Yuuri laughed, “That’s what I thought.” 

“Still a bully…” Viktor mumbled under his breath and feigned innocence at Yuuri’s sharp, observant eye. 

They managed to finish a loop around the desolate park before clumsily skating back to the rental shop. The owner fixed them with a knowing look--one that Yuuri was all too familiar with because of his roommate--as Viktor’s head was ducked down to unlace the skates around his feet. Yuuri flushed to his ears and had to think of something depressing to erase the permanent pink hue.

The couple walked out feeling serene with the world and with a brighter perception towards the ugly truth of reality. Yuuri especially didn’t feel as anxious as usual today which explained the constant grin on his face. He felt a little more powerful with Viktor by his side, like the other man mentally held up his sagging, depressed body and empowered him with those dorky smiles and bright flowery eyes.

He understood that Viktor would not suddenly cure his mental illnesses, but it was nice to know that the other man was supporting him nonetheless. He never needed a hero or a miracle to “fix” himself. He only wanted someone to toughen him up, liven his damp spirit, and ignite a fiery passion back into him again. That’s why he liked Viktor--the Russian never pushed him to do something he didn’t desire, but he still stepped him out of his comfort zone and never once placed his sympathetic view onto Yuuri. 

“I’m a little hungry after all that exercise.” 

“Viktor, we skated a circle around a pond smaller than my  _ bathroom _ .” 

“Mentally! I was  _ mentally  _ tortured!” Yuuri could only roll his eyes.

“Okay, okay, you poor baby. Let’s go get some food.” 

Viktor beamed at him. “I’m in the mood for some nachos! Share with me?” He pleaded with a quick bat of his eyelashes. Yuuri humored him.

“Only unless  _ I  _ get to pay this time.” 

“Wha--That’s cheating!” Viktor accused him after they both sat back down in the comfy car. Yuuri swung a leg over the other--that’s how much room there was in that damn lavish car--and stared down at his nails disinterestedly.

“Well, guess I should just go home now.” He peered up at Viktor through long, dark eyelashes. “I don’t want to keep using you like this.” Viktor’s jaw dropped in disbelief. Then, he grunted, stabbed the keys into the ignition with another puppy pout on his face, and fought with the seat belt to click it into its proper place. Yuuri snickered, knowing he won the fight this time around.

“You’re a cheater, Yuuri.” Viktor muttered. “A dirty cheater who’s too beautiful.” This time, Yuuri scoffed, but the same fuzzy feeling when he was chest to chest with Viktor and only a breath away from kissing returned to his pumping heart to rejuvenate the blood in his veins. Heart thrumming, Yuuri lightly kissed the back of Viktor’s hand to pacify the taller male. 

“Cheater.” Viktor parroted with voice soft like melting butter. Yuuri just giggled behind his free hand.

It was so sickeningly domestic that Yuuri wondered if his sick mind forged such a delicate scene in his head in order to catch him off guard and heave him down below choppy, hungry waves. Maybe it produced a false sense of security to rip him into shreds until he could no longer be painfully stitched back together.

However, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Yuuri wanted to enjoy his time with Viktor, and whatever happened, he would accept it without a single argument. He wouldn’t mind officially dating Viktor--and judging by the soft looks from both parties, neither truly did--but he didn’t ignore the possibility of Viktor leaving him behind. 

Life was short though, and Yuuri was tired of being depressed, tired of being forced back into an airtight bubble because his anxiety decided today would be miserable. Yuuri wanted to experience life for what it was worth and abandon his past regrets without a single look back. More than anything, he wanted to  _ try  _ to heal, to free himself of the burdens mental illnesses weighed him down on. 

He would listen to his heart, and right now it screamed at him to take the chance and allow himself to  _ fall in love  _ with Viktor. 

So, he did. 

Yuuri couldn’t suppress another affectionate kiss on the back of Viktor’s palm, a cheesy sigh emitting from his pleased body. Viktor snuck a peek at him from the corner of his eye before a sunny smile emerged on his lips and a light hum filled the peaceful car with white noise. 

_ What does this make us?  _ Yuuri wanted to ask, but he held back and swallowed down the pesky questions along with the nacho chips. He actually  _ did  _ end up paying for the chips and he made a point to advise Viktor to permit him to pay half the time, lest Yuuri never go out with him again. Viktor, albeit begrudgingly, agreed and pressed a kiss on the side of Yuuri’s face with dirty, nacho filled lips because he could.

Yuuri retaliated by “accidentally” smearing Viktor’s nose with a bit of guacamole. 

They yielded after the fight turned their faces into spa day masks and Viktor all too gleefully shot a selfie of the two of them, Yuuri laughing in the background with shut eyes and Viktor grinning like an idiot at the camera. Both of their faces ranged from light green to splashes of pinkish-red to a snow white dolloped on random spots on their faces. It was Yuuri’s favorite picture.

Finally, the two calmed down enough to wipe the salsa and guacamole off their visages and for Yuuri to finish up the rest of the chips with a satisfying smack of his lips. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and crumpled the dirtied thing into a ball to throw into the plastic takeout bag that would be thrown out later. The car reeked of nachos and hot sauce, but a small layer of mint still clung onto the walls and permeated across Yuuri’s nose.

“Where are we going now?” He questioned eagerly. Viktor only supplied him with a non-committal hum of his throat, eyes straight ahead on the road and the motionless sunset painting his face with a bright marigold and a somber ruby combined into one. Gazing at him from the side created the illusion of a moving painting, a sculpture crafted by a god’s hands and gifted to the world--to  _ Yuuri.  _

Yuuri entertained himself by humming an old Japanese tune that always stuck to his head during silent moments such as these. His fingers still entwined with Viktor’s as the scenery changed from the lazy lights of the city to the drifting bare land of open land. Yuuri propped his elbow on the side of the window to rest his head against his hand. 

A hazy drowsiness sprawled over his sinking eyelids; Yuuri yawned and was greeted with Viktor’s gentle voice urging him to nap for a while. He would wake him up when they were at their destination, he promised, and Yuuri nodded sluggishly, belly full and mind no longer in disarray. He already  _ found  _ the answer to all of his questions.

(Maybe, just maybe, it was  _ love _ . And maybe, just maybe, he needed to stop watching too much  _ Steven Universe _ .)

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


_ “Yuuri,” the sweet lilt of his mother’s voice caught his attention. Yuuri flipped around to regard his mom with nothing short of love as he clambered up to her. His head barely reached her stomach as his arms raised up for his mother to cradle him in her strong arms. She laughed, complying to his silent demands and pecking him gingerly on the nose.  _

_ He giggled, “Mom! Look, all the leaves are falling off the tree! They’re so pretty, mom!” Young Yuuri exclaimed in joy. He extracted a dying leaf from the ground; it was the size of his hand and his tiny fingers barely grasped onto the end of the leaf as the autumn breeze plucked the leaf out of his hand. _

_ His observant eyes watched the leaf dance away with the cooling wind before being waltzed around the whistling wind with other abandoned leaves. They fluttered in the air like butterflies and soared away from the family inn as birds would once winter hit. Yuuri clutched his red sweater with tiny fists.  _

_ “Don’t worry, Yuuri. Once spring returns, so will the leaves.” She reassured him, but Yuuri just shook his head.  _

_ “I’m not worried about that, mom.” He turned his head up, tilted his chin to get a better view of his smart mother. “Where do the leaves go? Are they lonely?” Just like me, he wanted to ask, but he chose to peer up at his mother in concern instead of outwardly express his thoughts. Hiroko hummed as she sat down near the hot springs and smiled wistfully at the golden browns and apricot scarlets tinting the world in a festive mood.  _

_ “The leaves will scatter. They will travel the world until they find their rightful place and plant a tree at their new home,” she explained. Yuuri’s eyes widened, absorbing in all the new (yet fake) information his mother provided. _

_ “Then, when spring arrives, they will grow into beautiful, large trees. Just like that one was.” She pointed at the dying oak, black as if burnt to a crisp from the fiery colors of fall.  _

_ “Then what will happen to that tree?”  _

_ “It will come back to life in spring, shed all of its leaves in the fall, and create life somewhere else.” Yuuri made a soft noise of comprehension. He allowed his chin to be tilted up so that he could meet his mother’s tender, adoring eyes. The spice colored orbs crinkled with crow’s feet as she smiled down at him.  _

_ “Remember, Yuuri. Everyone is just like a growing tree. One day, you’ll find a place where you feel like you belong with someone who fits just right with you. When that day comes, you must do everything in your power to keep that happiness. That’s what it means to be human.”  _

Her voice faded into the back of his mind, drifting away from his unconscious state like the autumn leaves gliding cleanly through the wind as if on a mission to find a new home. Yuuri blinked open his eyes as his name was called two more times and his shoulders lightly shook from the arm pushing at him. 

“Viktor?” He asked in his disorientated mind. He yawned, his right hand coming up to curl around his mouth. Viktor chuckled and used his free hand to sweep his black bangs from out of his eyes. 

“We’re here,  _ my love _ .” Yuuri hastily unbuckled his seat belt as the words sank in. He ignored the trill of laughter from Viktor as he unlocked his car door and scrambled out of the seat to breath in the fresh, crisp air. Compared to the city--even as tiny as the one he lived in was--and its constant humidity from the amount of people breathing the same air, the breeze around Yuuri’s hunched up shoulders and quivering, naked thighs cut cleanly and freely, unhindered because of the lack of automobiles, humans, and skyscrapers. 

“Whoa,” Yuuri breathed out; smoky wisps trailed out of his mouth and he shivered from the sudden onslaught of freezing temperature on his less appropriately dressed persona. Viktor strode up from behind him and lay a thick blanket over his own shoulders before stepping in to press his chest to Yuuri’s back. The blanket sheltered Yuuri from the biting winter wind, and he gratefully smiled up at Viktor.

“Oh, it’s beautiful, Viktor.” Yuuri complimented. And indeed, it was a sight to behold.

Stretching far beyond the human eye and extended past several horizons, the midnight azure sky glittered with diamond stars. Without the smog of the city polluting the skies, the stars twinkled teasingly at the couple as if to bless them for their relationship. 

Yuuri sank back against his partner with a romantic, wistful sigh that mingled with the wind. His eyes never left the beautiful expanse of black mirrored waters high above their heads; even if he stood atop the highest skyscraper and reached for the sky with straining arms, he would never be able to smooth his hands across the milky sweep of the sky, would never be able to cradle a star in the center of his palm.

Unconsciously, he turned his head to the side and was bestowed a loving kiss on his turned cheek. He sighed, clutching onto the arms woven around his figure and squeezing. He may not be able to actually touch a star, but Viktor was definitely a second close.

“I wanted you to see this beautiful sight…” Viktor murmured in his ear, lips grazing against the shell and Yuuri swallowed down heated wings that plummeted to the abyss of his stomach. Slowly, Viktor unwrapped his arms from Yuuri’s stomach so he could gently flip the other man around. Yuuri gasped, a little breathless from the sudden movement and found himself staring up at night’s gorgeous son.

“This,” Viktor gestured to the heavens above, mended with stars that dulled in comparison to the moonlight in his eyes, “this is what I see everytime I’m looking at you, Yuuri.” Yuuri’s breath hitched. His heart sang sweet, sweet melodies that rang in his ears pleasantly and captivated his soul within the silver haired man’s song. His words lovingly stroked at Yuuri’s chest, at his mind sighing like a lovesick fool. 

“But,” he couldn’t help but refute, “but, I’m just--I’m just  _ me _ .” He desperately gazed up into Viktor’s starry eyes to search for answers, a reasonable explanation of  _ how  _ Viktor could see the galaxy wrap around his body like a beautiful dress. 

“Oh, Yuuri,” Viktor’s voice trembled with something Yuuri wouldn’t dare so was  _ love _ . But it was. It so desperately was. 

“You are more than  _ just Yuuri _ . You’re a bewitching, alluring enigma with an adorable smile and pretty laugh. You’re as kind as you are selfless, and everyday, I fall a little more in love with  _ you _ , Yuuri.” Viktor’s warm fingers pressed at his heart, squeezed Yuuri’s chest until he was suffocating in the mist of cinnamon and expensive cologne. 

Yuuri laughed wetly as tears sprung into his eyes. “You might need to get your eyes checked, Viktor. I’m nothing but a fool.”  _ A fool for you _ , his mind sighed unhelpfully, and he swatted at his enamored thoughts with a lazy hand. 

Viktor frowned--and even with his eyebrows knit together into one, he was still as beautiful as the day Yuuri first met him--and caught Yuuri’s turning cheek before Yuuri could escape from his grasp. The silver haired man breathed life into him with his fingertips, collected the gritty sand underneath Yuuri’s itchy skin (he didn’t belong, he didn’t belong) and forged colored glass out of it with warm, delicate hands.

“Then I am lower than a fool. I am the dirt underneath your feet that praises every step you take.” Viktor smoothed his lips down Yuuri’s jaw as he waxed poetry into his skin like tattoos. Yuuri thought even the sharp pinning needle on his skin would not affect him as much as Viktor’s honeyed words.

Yuuri breathlessly chuckled. “You won’t stop until I agree, will you?” 

Viktor hummed, the vibrations tickling Yuuri’s chin. “I am so lucky to have someone as intelligent  _ and  _ beautiful as you.” The silver haired man peppered soft kisses on the base of the Japanese man’s neck. Yuuri tilted his chin up to allow more room for the pleasant ministrations, and giggled when Viktor blew softly on his sensitive jugular. 

“Adorable.” Viktor commented with a proud grin. Yuuri pushed at his chest but Viktor only clung on with an iron grip. The shorter man nuzzled his nose into the crook of Viktor’s neck and shoulder, mouthing softly where both met. 

“You praise me too much.” Yuuri kissed Viktor’s jaw and relished in the small groan of pleasure from his counterpart. “Really, if anyone is ethereal, it should be  _ you _ .” He detached from Viktor’s neck and stood on his tiptoes to plant a loving kiss on Viktor’s cheek. He ducked out of the way when the other man dove in for a bold kiss and guffawed at the resulting whine.

“And  _ you _ tease too much.” Viktor complained with little heat. Yuuri hummed in approval as he sucked on an untainted patch of pale skin close to Viktor’s adam’s apple. He received a low moan from the taller man and Yuuri found entirely too much entertainment in causing Viktor to succumb to his fleeting touches.

“What does this make us?” He pondered aloud after sucking a few more hickeys into Viktor’s skin. He bared his neck (and his soul) out for Viktor’s hungry lips and shuddered at the heat curling tendrils of fire into his stomach. Viktor slyly licked a path down the side of Yuuri’s neck and he gasped, clinging tighter onto the taller man lest he descend to the ground.

“Friends, maybe?” Yuuri continued to babble and chuckled when Viktor bit harsher onto his neck than he was supposed to. He laughed. “Okay, we’re not friends. Oh, what about  _ best  _ friends?” Another harsh nibble on his collarbone; Yuuri smiled longingly.

“I’m joking, Viktor. But…” Yuuri bit his lip in contemplation. “How is this relationship going to work?” 

Viktor kissed Yuuri’s red mark with smooth lips. “Like other relationships: we go out on dates, hold hands, kiss  _ a lot _ , and make other people uncomfortable with how much PDA we’re showing!” He sounded all too enthusiastic to display his heart on his sleeve, and Yuuri could only wonder. 

“Very clever, Viktor.” Yuuri dryly stated and yipped at the sudden painful nip on his ear. “Fine. Suppose we  _ do  _ do all of the things you said.” 

“We already are.” Viktor delightfully added. This time he was the one to yelp at a particularly rough bite on the side of his neck. Yuuri resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“How is this going to work when you’re part of a program that allows other people to  _ date  _ you?” 

“It’s all fake, Yuuri.” Viktor said with a positive cheer that completely contrasted with Yuuri’s cynical outlook. Yuuri fixed him with a deadpan stare, one eyebrow arched up as if to say, “really?” 

“Look, Viktor. I really do want to be in a relationship with you… But I can’t be selfish and ask you to  _ stop  _ working for my sake. I just--” he inhaled shakily through his nose, “I have really low self confidence and I’m always anxious 24/7. I don’t have any redeeming qualities like good lucks or brilliant intelligence.” 

“Yuuri--” 

“You could find anyone else to be more suitable to you.” Yuuri’s eyes grew sorrowful as his fingers trailed lightly down Viktor’s face. “And one day you  _ will  _ because of your job. You  _ will  _ find someone else that’s more beautiful than I am and has better self esteem.”  _ Like Chris or a beautiful gal who will be swept off her feet by you and you two will have a true happy ending.  _

Viktor remained oddly quiet, a pensive purse of his lips the only sign of his deep musing. Yuuri exhaled. He knew it. He knew Viktor would backtrack, actually  _ think  _ of his relationship with Yuuri and then decide that there  _ was  _ someone more compatible with his model charisma and actor worthy appearance. Viktor would realize he had so much  _ more  _ than Yuuri. Yuuri would only hold him back in the darkness, would only kill the last of Viktor’s dreams and hopes and  _ warmth  _ because Yuuri was the bleak, abandoned winter. 

“I won’t.” Yuuri’s protest died in his throat at the confident, determined expression on his face, grim as the flat line of his lips. Yuuri opened his mouth, but Viktor beat him to it. 

“Yuuri, the day I stop loving you is the day my breath no longer exists and my heart no longer beats life.” The brown eyed man could feel the tears dripping down his cheeks as Viktor cupped his cheeks and gazed at him like  _ Yuuri  _ was his world. 

“No one has ever come close to making me feel the way  _ you  _ make me feel, Yuuri.” Yuuri wanted to wrench away, coldly turn his back on the other man so he could wallow in his anxieties. He was no changed man; not even love could create a brave man out of him. 

But when Viktor stared at him with such hope, joy, love, admiration,  _ belief _ , Yuuri felt like he could try. He could try to be the person Viktor saw in him, the person that Viktor would be proud to stand next to as an equal and declare, “ _ This is my lover, Yuuri Katsuki, and I love him for him _ .” 

“Please,” Viktor pleaded, eyes seeking out an affirmative from Yuuri. The halo of white around his head shimmered with the moonlight, and Yuuri was struck with how the man’s hair glowed softly like the moon itself while unknown galaxies swirled in the sea of his crystal white lashes and dipped down to drown Yuuri in the sky. 

“Let me love you, Yuuri.” Viktor promised, and there was nothing more Yuuri desired in his life than unconditional love. 

“Okay,” Yuuri breathed, lashes a web of tears, joyful and sorrowful, that hung above the bronze of his eyes like raindrops over a forest. 

“Okay.” He repeated as Viktor surged forward to meet him where he was firmly standing and drag him out of the darkness. And underneath a silky veil of tittering constellations and galaxies, Viktor’s fingers finally skimmed past the surface of his lover’s ocean to undress his skin and reach for the stars embedded in them.

 

 

 


	8. you planted me white lilacs for the winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri's not too amazing adventure to Japan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so real talk i was reading through the comments
> 
> 1) THANKS SO MUCH FOR ALL OF YOUR COMMENTS IT GIVES ME LIFE I S2G IM GOING THROUGH A ROUGH PATCH RN BUT YALL MADE ME SEE THE LIGHT
> 
> 2) uh i mean some of u aren't far off like someone is really close (not gonna say who) to guessing like part of the plot?? but there's a whole huge picture that i haven't even begun writing about yet... like this whole fic should be like 15 chapters over all so there's still a lot of plot for me to cover
> 
> 3) i s2g viktor is NOT an asshole. is this an unhealthy relationship? yes, at first. but things will lighten up, more questions will be answered, etc. my interpretation of these characters will slowly start to reveal itself as I write more... but if you have any questions, concerns, conundrums, etc, I am more than happy to explain how I see it and why characters act a certain way, etc
> 
> 4) I S2G YALL ARE PHICHIT IN THE BEGINNING OF THIS CHAPTER LOL
> 
> 5) and finally, we're almost halfway ther ehahahaha i hate myself but the good news is that the angst is not coming yet
> 
> trust me, you'll know when the angst hits : ))) 
> 
> im sorry this is still unbetad and like this chapter is my least favorite overall (writing and quality ://) so i wont blame u if u start screaming at me at how bad this chapter is compared to the others : ((( i tried to just push this out before school takes over my life again so : ((( 
> 
> uh one last thing idk im thinking of writing a horror fanfic or maybe a fantasy/horror one... would any of u be interested??? idk im just curious to know if anyone is interested in like horror like i am : )

 

 

 

“So,” Phichit casually uttered as he dipped his mozzarella stick into a tiny plastic can of marinara sauce. He pointed at Yuuri dramatically with a drenched mozzarella stick, nearly spraying the other man with the red sauce, “Let me get this straight…” He chewed obnoxiously slow on his snack. Yuuri furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance.

“Are you  _ done _ ?” Yuuri questioned as he crossed his arms tightly, wound his body up into a tight coil like a pile of swirling snakes. His knees propped up in front of him as he eyed the small box of mozzarella sticks and teetering can of sauce with distaste.

“Patience,” Phichit reprimanded lightly after he swallowed. He thoughtfully chewed on the gooey cheese stick before pulling it away from his face--stringy cream strands of mozzarella stretched out to cling to his dark lips, “I’m just a little surprised, is all.” He spoke through a mouthful of cheese. Yuuri’s lip curled in disgust, prompting a quick eye roll from his roommate and a guzzle of sprite to wash down the cheesy, tomato-y aftertaste.

“I don’t know, Yuuri. Don’t you think this was,  _ you know _ , a little too fast?” Phichit shifted over to wake up his sleeping cast worn leg. 

“Fast?” Yuuri scrunched his eyebrows in contemplation. Phichit wasn’t incorrect--he  _ had  _ suddenly rushed into a relationship with Viktor, well if he could even call what they had  _ a  _ relationship. Everything after the starry night with lingering touches and secure embraces seemed like a blur, like he was fast forwarding the tape of his life.

“Yeah,” Phichit crossed his arms and turned his body slightly to face his friend, “Fast. You know, rushing into a relationship? All those things  _ Cosmopolitan  _ or whatever bullshit magazine says to steer clear away from and, I quote, ‘keeping your man’?” 

“Those magazines are like clickbait, Phichit. There’s no way you can lose fifty pounds in two weeks in a  _ healthy  _ way.” 

“Yeah? Well there’s no way you fucking just  _ got  _ into a relationship with Viktor in under a month, yet here we are.” Phichit sassily snarked back. He sighed when Yuuri’s frown deepened with lines forming on his smooth forehead. The Thai male pat his friend’s hand reassuringly--the one that wasn’t covered in crumbs and oil anyway. Yuuri just smiled weakly.

“I don’t think I thought this through.” Yuuri confessed as he slouched down into the couch, feeling like a broken man attempting to recover from a bad breakup with booze and tv show marathons. He hastily stuffed a mozzarella stick into his mouth to relieve a bit of stress. 

“You think?” Phichit rose a delicate eyebrow and received a pillow swung to his face. He spat out the tiny fluffy balls sewn around the borders of the pillow and pushed the pillow onto the ground.

Yuuri sighed. “I don’t know, he was just--it was so  _ beautiful _ , Phichit. It was like, I don’t know what I was saying. It felt so  _ weird _ and I just felt all sentimental and I remembered my mom telling me something… Just, all of that combined really made me feel like I could…” 

“Like you could fall in love and trust again.” Phichit whispered gently. Yuuri swiveled his head over to meet Phichit’s nostalgic, yet dreamy eyes. He nodded mutely. Phichit laughed, but it was a bitter sound that rattled his ribs and tensed the muscles in his thigh to stop the convulsions from reaching his wounded calf. 

“But, Yuuri. You should know  _ better _ than this. I know I’m coming off as harsh but… Fairy tale endings and love at first sight is a bunch of bullcrap. You don’t  _ know  _ Viktor and you don’t even know if this guy is, well, a good guy. He could just be an experienced player who toys with unsuspecting maiden’s hearts.” Yuuri glared at the “maiden” part; Phichit corrected himself, “...people’s hearts.” 

“Ugh, I know.” Yuuri buried his face into his hands before viciously rubbing his skin raw with the blunt of his palm. “Am I dumb, Phichit? Is it weird for me to hope that I can find someone who will love me for me? Or to, uh, I don’t know-- _ fix  _ myself with him?” 

Phichit shook his head sagely. “That’s not how love works, my friend. Just because you’re in a relationship doesn’t guarantee that your mental illness will just  _ fade  _ away. They will always be there. It’s just finding someone who will love you, flaws and all, that will slowly help you begin to heal.  _ Viktor  _ isn’t going to be your medicine or your hero that will stop these ‘bad’ feelings. That’s  _ your  _ job, you know. No one knows yourself better than you.” 

“Wow, Phichit…” Yuuri smiled affectionately at his friend. “Since when did you become so wise?” Phichit stuck out his tongue at him.

“Shut up. It’s underneath all these layers, you know.” 

Yuuri giggled. “Don’t start quoting  _ Shrek _ , Phi.” 

“‘Ogres are like onions… _ No,  _ Donkey! Onions have layers!’” Phichit quoted perfectly--Scottish accent and everything. The roommates shared a humorous look. They both began cracking up, filling the room with light chuckles and cute snorts. 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“Well, I didn’t want to be  _ too  _ serious.” Phichit snorted as he slapped Yuuri lightly on the shoulder. “But hey, seriously. Talk to Viktor. Tell him that you’re still upset about the whole ‘ignoring you for two weeks’ thing. Communication is key, Yuuri!” He grinned goofily as he dug out an old, rusty silver key that glistened in the bright light of the television. Yuuri shoved at him playfully and nearly pushed his friend onto the ground. 

“You’re a nerd, Phichit Chulanont.” Yuuri stated seriously and even swiped the last mozzarella stick to stick into his mouth and grin with triumph at the utterly betrayed look from his friend. Phichit grumbled grumpily at his friend as he fixed his position on the couch and lightly hovered his foot in the air to turn his body back towards Yuuri.

“I’m  _ perfect _ , Katsuki. Cause girl I’m amazing, just the way I am!” He sang and ended the last word with a wave of his hands. He collapsed into a giggling fit straight afterwards with oily hands covering up his open mouth. Yuuri shook his head at how dorky his best friend was acting. 

“Wrong lyrics, you dumb lamp shade!” He lightly wrestled Phichit with him on top; Phichit jabbed him painfully in the side of his ribs and Yuuri choked before dramatically falling on top of his half sprawled out roommate. 

“I  _ will  _ get out the crutches, Yuuri.” He threatened through a choked out laugh. “You can even ask Guang Hong. He can gladly tell you how how much it hurts when the crutch is thrown at your  _ balls _ .” Yuuri separated from Phichit so fast, he could have been in the Olympics. 

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


As it turns out, Yuuri was supposed to fly off to Japan in two days. He was partially nervous (like always whenever he had to suffer through a cramped aircraft hovering millions of miles above the air between screaming children, snoring elders, and invasive elbows, all on a sixteen hour flight), but mainly enthusiastic in meeting up with his family again, especially with Vicchan.

He was already done packing those two days before his flight, which was also coincidentally when he would meet up with Viktor again. Yuuri decided to _communicate_ better with Viktor and actually talk about their odd relationship--or whatever the thing they had was. Yuuri hadn’t been in a lot of relationships; his longest one was with a girl Phichit introduced him to, but even that relationship only lasted for a month before he broke it off. Because of his lack of experience in that area, Yuuri didn’t exactly know the “guidelines” or a romantic relationship. Hell, he couldn’t even keep _friends_ without drifting away first, so how would he be able to fare any better with a _romantic_ relationship?  
God, his anxiety would surely suck out his soul one day, he thought grimly as the raven haired man leaned over to support his slumped body against his room’s wall. Yuuri turned his head back to glance at the bed--where he did _dirty_ things with Viktor that one day, his mind unhelpfully supplied--before he grimaced and shook his head clear. 

One more hour, his phone’s clock read. One more hour until he would inevitably meet up with Viktor, tell him of his plans, and hopefully be able to convey his message across: he was ready to start a relationship with Viktor as long as Viktor understood his point of view. Yuuri understood that Viktor’s occupation was just a job, but he wanted Viktor to at least understand that Yuuri would be uncomfortable with the notion. 

But, yet, what did Yuuri want? Was he so blinded by the notion of love, of Viktor’s promises that he would stay with Viktor even at the expense of his discomfort? Or would he leave after his insecurities were brutally crushed? 

Viktor was no heartless man--at least from what Yuuri has seen. Sure, the other man was a bit clueless at times, a bit of an airhead some other times, but Viktor still enthralled Yuuri with his intelligence. He spoke mainly of his home in Russia, but other times, he recommended Yuuri a few choice novels as well as insight on his philosophies and past experiences that shaped him. Viktor was many things--an enigma, a handsome face, a dazzling smile, a broad perspective--but he was  _ not  _ a heartless bastard.

Well, at least Yuuri  _ hoped  _ not. He didn’t know whether it was his anxiety or depression or a pure combination of both that highly doubted his own thoughts. And by thinking that he was being too hopeful, his depression deeply reprimanded him for the thought of someone  _ liking  _ him, let alone tolerate him. Having deeply rooted mental illnesses truly drained him of his energy and caused confusion to spiral his mind out of control. 

His body nearly crashed onto the ground but Yuuri sighed and slowly clambered back up to his full height. He heaved himself up in order to walk out to the living room to wait for an additional half hour before heading out in his beaten up, ratty car. He passed Phichit, who merely waved at him from the kitchen before turning back to  _ whatever  _ he was cooking up. Yuuri ended his trip by collapsing into the couch with his head tipped back to blankly stare up at the ceiling.

“Hey, buddy.” Phichit said after five minutes. He came out of the kitchen with a sandwich on a plate; peeking out of the corners of the toasted bread were a slab of fried egg, a slice of melted pepper jack cheese, and green slices of raw avocado. Phichit sat directly next to Yuuri, receiving a grunt from the latter.

“Didn’t you eat like an hour ago, Phi?” Yuuri mumbled, idly eyeing the delicious sandwich being brought up to Phichit’s mouth. A satisfying crunch and an inaudible response through a full mouth later, Phichit gulped, nodded, and grinned at Yuuri with the intensity of a four hundred degree fahrenheit oven. 

“Yup!” His roommate cheerfully replied, attacking the sandwich with a passionate vigor that he ought to gear towards his school assignments due in two days. Unfortunately, Phichit still had two classes left until he was completely finished for the fall semester, but knowing the Thai man, he wouldn’t actually start his assignments until the actual day it was due. 

Yuuri groaned, throwing his hands onto his face. “How do you manage to stay so skinny after eating like a whale that hasn’t had food in two weeks?” 

“Rude.” Phichit quipped, but he grinned that shit eating one that never failed to cause Yuuri to groan (again). “I have good metabolism--runs in the family.” He calmly said before devouring the rest of his sandwich. A sauce the same color as Thousand Island dressing dripped down his slim fingers which he easily cleaned up with a few swipes of his tongue against his fingerpads. Yuuri cringed at the sight and swiveled his head to the side to ignore the slight pangs of hunger in his stomach.

“Anyway,” Phichit continued, “how’s your whole hot Russian date thing going?” 

“Amazing. So fucking amazing. We’re thinking of a summer wedding in Hawaii. What do  _ you  _ think, Phichit?” Yuuri threw his hands up in exasperation. “What’s the point of asking if you already know the answer?” 

“Hey, I was just trying to confront the problem in a  _ friendly  _ way. Trying to be caring is hard if your roommate is  _ unappreciative  _ of your ways.” 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’m just a little nervous, I guess?” Yuuri admitted. Phichit hummed as he wiped his sticky fingers on the paper towel. 

“Nah, I get it. You never expected to fall in love with some guy that  _ dates  _ other people for a living. That sucks, man. I dunno what I would do if Seung-Gil was like that.” 

“So, what do you think I should do?” Yuuri asked, hoping that Phichit would give him some piece of good advice. If his best friend truly set his mind to it, he could give pretty solid advice that often helped Yuuri with his mental illnesses and other problems. Phichit  _ understood  _ Yuuri. 

“I dunno. It’s an interesting situation…” Phichit shrugged. He set down his plate on the coffee table in front of their feet before moving his body over, careful not to jostle his leg too much.

“Yeah, one caused by  _ you _ . If you hadn’t made me see this guy, I wouldn’t be having to deal with these unwanted feelings.” Yuuri rolled his eyes. He huffed out the frustration from his exhausted body through his mouth. 

“Yeah, I know.” Phichit agreed amiably. He smiled sadly to Yuuri. “I’m sorry you have to go through this, Yuu.” 

“No, it’s fine. You didn’t know this was going to happen and I didn’t know either.” Yuuri sighed, smiling comfortingly at his friend. He splayed his fingers out against his thighs, drumming them down into a soundless, mindless rhythm. 

“Why did you even want me to get a boyfriend so badly anyway?” Yuuri asked after a beat of silence. Phichit had zoned off, eyes far away as they sucked in the black void of the closed television. The shorter male shook his head to snap out of his reverie, blinking rapidly before turning over to meet Yuuri’s curious eyes.

“It was cause I knew that you would be, I guess, disappointed in yourself.” 

Yuuri blinked in surprise. “Disappointed in myself? Why?” Phichit smiled sheepishly; he swept his bangs out of his eyes in a nervous habit of his before sighing softly through his nose.

“I mean, I just noticed? I guess I noticed that every time you came home, you were just kind of upset. Only for a few days, but you always act like that after seeing your parents. Not because of your parents, but after hearing a bit from your worried mom, I kind of just guessed.” 

Phichit sucked in a deep breath, his eyes pained as he regarded Yuuri with an even, serious stare. “You’re upset because you think you’re disappointing your family members by not having a significant other.” 

“What?” Yuuri blinked twice. He peered at Phichit’s shifty eyes, at the way he bit his lip. “I mean, I’m always scared of disappointing the people I love, but for this? I’m not--I’m not like that, am I?” Phichit didn’t say anything.

“I’m not  _ like  _ that, am I? Phichit?” Yuuri pressed. Did he really act like that after the major holidays spent with his family? And if so, how long had he been acting like this? Yuuri wracked his brain to try to recall moments in which he sulked or moped around after a visit from his motherland. Nothing. He searched every crook and nanny, but he could only remember his fondness for his family in Japan and the longing to return (to perhaps recede in his shell of comfort in the confines of his old room). 

Phichit heaved out a tired gust of breath. “I could be wrong, Yuuri. I just  _ assumed  _ that your parents’ constant badgering of your relationship status was really getting to you. Like, every time you came home, you looked happy, but after a few days, it’s like their words finally sunk in.” 

“I’m…” What could Yuuri say? He wasn’t positive that his longing to return home to Japan was identical with his longing to find partnership with another person. He didn’t even remember the exact emotions after the long trip from Japan other than the need for his comfy bed. 

“Don’t read too much into it, Yuuri.” Oh, he would. “But I should have asked you first. I know you would have denied which is why I wanted to just  _ do  _ it for you. I found someone at rent-a-boyfriend program that someone in my college knew about because her family always, like, expected her to have a boyfriend when she went home for Christmas. I thought it was a good idea, found Viktor, and well, you know the rest.” 

Well, Phichit wasn’t wrong. Typically, Yuuri’s “self-care” methods included his exclusion of actual healthy tips. Self-care for Yuuri meant ignoring his actual body’s needs mentally and physically by throwing out his emotions, binge watching kids’ cartoons, and eating unhealthy (but undeniably cheap) $0.28 cup noodles. He could understand why Phichit wanted to at least help him  _ pretend  _ to have a boyfriend by Christmas time so he could be relieved from the prying questions of his family (mainly his mother). 

“No, I get that you were trying to help and all, Phi. But did you ever think that I would feel  _ guilty  _ for lying to my parents?” Phichit quieted at that statement. When Yuuri watched Phichit for his reaction, the other man’s eyes were large and shiny with unshed tears. The Thai man gasped, a tiny, sad hitch of his breath as his hand came over his mouth. 

“I didn’t think of that.” He whispered, staring brokenly off into the wall. “Oh my god. I didn’t even think of that. What kind of friend am I?” Phichit slapped his hand over his mouth to cage in the high pitched wail of his voice. Yuuri flinched, his heart stinging and his mind angrily chastising him for causing his friend’s tears. 

“No, Phichit. It’s not your fault. It’s mine--I should have--I should have, I-I dunno, but I shouldn’t have said anything. Oh my god, Phichit, I’m  _ so  _ sorry.” Yuuri said in one breath. His lungs gasped for air as a cloud of anxiety hung over his head like white mist in a morning of rain.

“No, Yuuri, it’s not your fault!” Phichit angrily smacked his shoulder. “God, you idiot, it’s  _ my  _ fault. I should have spoken to you! I should have just  _ asked  _ instead of assuming If anyone’s dumb, it’s me!” Phichit babbled through a trickle of tears. He ended up picking up a lone pillow to his right and slamming his face into the pillow to let loose a curl of screams.

“Phichit, oh my god.” Yuuri said for lack of anything better to say. Phichit usually solved his crying and his problems by screaming but after too many noise complaints and sewer water coffees, Phichit opted to muffle his yells into a pillow.

“Okay, I’m fine.” Phichit announced, detaching his face from the pillow after a solid two minutes of endless screeching. “I’m fine, I’m fine. I’m just mad at myself for not realizing this sooner. And I’m mad at you too for thinking it’s your fault.” He pointed accusingly at Yuuri. 

“I mean, it kind of is for making you overthink this. It’s not your fault, Phi. You were just trying to help. I’m sorry for, like, bringing this up.” 

“No, no, no. It’s  _ not  _ your fault and I refuse to forgive you until you admit that!”

“Uh, I thought it wasn’t my fault…? According to you, anyway.”   
“Don’t push it, Katsuki.” Phichit narrowed his eyes at Yuuri. He eventually hiccuped out a sigh, pushing his bangs back up against his head and dipping down to settle his cheek against the hard ridge of Yuuri’s shoulder bone. Still, he persistently remained in that uncomfortable position with his body angled weirdly, broken leg stiff with an awful itch crawling up his ankle, and his neck bared out painfully. It was the most comfort they both had in a while.

“How did this mess fucking happen?” Phichit grumbled, shifting for the twentieth time in the span of a minute in order to position himself in a more cozy manner. Yuuri shrugged lightly. 

“You know, I don’t know. Lack of communication?” He offered as an answer. Phichit hummed, stroking his chin in thought.

“Probably. Healthy relationships rely mainly on communication, after all. Looks like it’s not just you and Viktor that needed to talk.” Phichit said. Yuuri laughed softly, patting his friend’s head and combing his fingers through fine black strands.

“Yeah. I honestly need to talk more… about my problems.” 

“No kidding.” Phichit said, partially joking. “I know that you have really bad self-confidence, like I get that. I just wish that someone or something out there would make you like yourself, at least a little bit.” 

Yuuri smiled bitterly. “You know that’s not how it works, Phi.” 

Phichit sighed. “I know. But here’s to dreaming.” 

“Here’s to dreaming.” Yuuri repeated. His eyes were hypnotized by the shapes swirling around on the cream colored walls. Unspoken words burned like strong alcohol on his tongue, but as usual, his cowardly self won out. Yuuri just wished he could be little more self assured, a little less  _ anxious  _ about the world--his world--falling apart around him. 

Eventually, Yuuri had to unpeel himself from his friend. He checked his phone and realized he would be late to the designated meeting point with Viktor if he didn’t leave right now. With a grimace, Yuuri managed to pry off a sticky cheeked Phichit with little difficulty physically, but highly demanding with Phichit’s teasing whines of “five more minutes”. 

Yuuri slowly pulled on a large jacket--a green one that was one of his favorites--to combat the terrifyingly freezing weather outside. He threw on a cream colored scarf, a pair of black gloves, and an almost cat eared beanie the same shade as a pile of blueberries. In his “haste” to leave the house, he slowly ambled around the house, collecting his belongings in his pockets as Phichit thoughtfully gazed up at the ceiling before he stopped Yuuri in his step.

“Hey, maybe you should talk to Viktor about Japan.” 

“Uh, I already told him I’m going in two days and I’ll be back on the fourth.” Yuuri weirdly eyed his roommate. He was sure he already told Phichit this. 

“No, I mean, ask him to join you on the trip.” Phichit clarified nonchalantly as if he hadn’t just suggested Yuuri’s possible break up in the future  _ should  _ follow Yuuri to Japan. Wow, way to try to get over the guy, Phichit. 

Yuuri’s eyes widened to the size of Thanksgiving dinner plates. He nearly snapped his head off his brittle neck from how fast he turned around to stare imploringly at Phichit. “Are you  _ mad _ ? Why would I ask him to go to Japan with me, Phichit?” 

Phichit put up his hands in defense. “I’m not saying you  _ have  _ to, Yuuri. I’m just saying that maybe you should ask him to go to Japan with you. I dunno, have him meet your family and stuff and see if he’s still serious after that. Maybe if you’re in a familiar place, you’ll be more willing to talk about your relationship with him.” 

“I don’t know, Phichit.” Yuuri bit his lip, hesitating near the doorway separating him between the comfort of his apartment and the inescapable future of meeting Viktor. “I’m pretty sure he would be busy with all these clients or something.” Phichit smiled at him mysteriously.

“Maybe.” 

“Yeah, more like probably.” Yuuri rolled his eyes; he decided trying to decipher Phichit’s knowing smile would cause him to linger too long in his apartment and miss his appointment-date- _ whatever  _ with Viktor. 

“I’ll see you later, Yuuri.” Phichit winked at him. Yuuri stared at him for five seconds, sighed, decided it wasn’t worth it, and abruptly left to the bitter cold of the weather outside. He ventured to his car, snorting at the thought of Viktor  _ actually  _ saying yes. 

“Yeah, right.” He muttered to himself as he pulled out of the packed parking lot and cranked up the heating to full blast. With Chopin in the background, he steadily drove over to the meeting place. 

As if Viktor would agree to go to Japan with him. 

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


“I would love to go with you to Japan!” Viktor all too willingly agreed. Yuuri blinked once. Twice. Three times. 

“Wait, what?!” Yuuri exclaimed, nearly springing up out of his seat and banging his hands against the table. Fortunately, he was aware enough to only jostle forward in his chair, a mouse like squeak falling from his lips at the unexpected response. He shrunk a little in himself as a few curious eyes wandered over to their table, but otherwise, he remained adamantly shocked at the turn of events.

Viktor’s hand soothingly smoothed over his hand as the other male quirked an eyebrow. He eyed Yuuri strangely. “Yes, I would love to go to Japan with you.” He echoed slowly. Yuuri’s cheeks burned and he resisted the urge to snatch his boiling hand away from Viktor’s. 

“B-B-But…! Don’t you have clients? People desperate to have a date by Christmas?” He spluttered. Viktor’s odd look turned into a full blown strange one as he stared at Yuuri as if the other proclaimed his love for public speaking: shocked and a tad suspicious.

“No, I don’t.” Viktor calmly stated. “I specifically take Christmas and New Year’s off, mainly because Christmas is my birthday.” He explained matter-of-factly. Yuuri flushed harder. Oh. He should have known. He vaguely remembered Phichit offhandedly saying something--most likely hinting--about how Viktor was suspiciously free during the winter holidays. At the time, Yuuri simply shrugged him off as he attempted to concentrate on a paper due in two hours.

“O-Oh…” Yuuri shifted in his seat nervously. Red flooded down his neck at the inquiring, curious scrutiny from the silver haired man. He tucked a strand of loose hair behind his ear only for it to flop back uselessly from around his ear. 

“Do you not want me to go to Japan with you?” Viktor asked with a small pout. He fluttered his damn distractingly long eyelashes at Yuuri, which really shouldn’t have affected Yuuri as much as it  _ did _ . Yuuri gulped, a wave of guilt piercing at his heart at the sad puppy face from his counterpart.

“No, that’s not it! I was just surprised that, uh, you didn’t have plans and like, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything!” Yuuri waved his hands uselessly in front of him to clear up the misunderstanding. He was stopped by a hearty chuckle from Viktor, whose eyes crinkled up endearingly with joy emitting from his visage.

“I was just kidding, Yuuri. I understand if you don’t want me to go to Japan with you! Family bonding time is important, and I won’t interfere during that time.” His thumb softly smoothed across his own thumb, and Yuuri heard more than felt his heart thud painfully fast. Curse him, he thought weakly. Curse Viktor for being a fucking nice person. 

“Don’t feel pressured or obligated to ask me to go.” He laughed softly, gingerly lifting up Yuuri’s hand to place a sweet kiss on the back of his palm. Yuuri’s fingers clenched up tighter in his fist and he could feel the tingle of Viktor’s lips on his hand.

“Okay,” Yuuri said and was rewarded with a gentle smile from Viktor. His heart nearly plummeted to his toes. 

“I don’t mind though.” He blindly said and ended up blinking at his own statement in surprise. Viktor’s eyes widened a little, snowflake lashes outlining the blue rings of his eyes perfectly--and really, how was Yuuri supposed to concentrate on his purpose, on the ultimate question of whether or not he would continue this relationship with Viktor when the damn guy was so utterly distracting?

“If you are sure…” Viktor trailed off, a tad uncertain. He cleared his throat and the mist in his eyes before presenting Yuuri with a thousand watt smile. “I would be glad to join you on this trip!” 

“Ah…” Yuuri replied. Viktor continued on his spiel of excitement at the prospect of visiting a “foreign land” and the amazing sights, foods, people, places they will no doubt discover. Yuuri glanced down at their joined hands, a feeling of regret lodging in his throat. He did not struggle to pry his hand away nor freeze up. No, he was too fucking stupid and nervous and everything in between to actually  _ talk  _ to Viktor. 

He could procrastinate many things: homework, chores, things he enjoyed doing… But he could not and  _ should  _ not procrastinate the current matters at hand. Yuuri should be speaking to Viktor with utter confidence and he should be relaying his worries onto Viktor. He should be doing anything  _ but  _ gawking as Viktor spoke about his own hometown with barely contained zeal while Yuuri could only stare at the other man like a color blind person finally seeing color for the first time.

But, Yuuri was a coward--he was certain of it. While Viktor confidently spoke about his feelings, Yuuri abstained from such acts, opting to retreat in the shadows while the limelight filtered across Viktor’s beautiful face and shined a halo across the silver of his locks. 

Despite everything, despite Yuuri’s cruel, cruel mind, Viktor never let go of his hand and Yuuri never gave him a chance to.

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


The two days passed by a little too quickly. Yuuri nearly strangled Phichit once he got home from his so called “date” with Viktor--broken leg and all. The raven haired man only relented when he noticed Seung-Gil was in their living room and currently cutely obliging to his boyfriend’s demands of spoon feeding him chicken noodle soup. Yuuri was mildly impressed that Phichit could  _ still  _ eat after the sandwich from the previous hour. 

After Yuuri slumped down on the couch and threatened to suffocate himself with the pillow--to which Phichit threatened to summon his spirit back with a ouija board; the prospect alone of fucking around with spirits caused Yuuri to violently roll over onto his back--, Yuuri half heartedly explained the details of the date. He ignored the annoying look Phichit sent him (biting his lip to refrain from grinning like an idiot at being  _ right _ ) and grabbed a pillow to scream into.

Phichit had pat his shoulder comfortingly and said that Yuuri didn’t have to rush for now; he could always still talk about his relationship with Viktor while they stayed in Japan. The thought comforted Yuuri a very miniscule smidge before he was back to bemoaning about his utter stupidity. 

Seung-Gil decided to help matters by eating the rest of Phichit’s chicken noodle soup and pretending his boyfriend wasn’t there while he ate it (“...like the traitor he is,” Phichit hissed like a cat rubbed the wrong way and shot a glare at his boyfriend  _ still  _ eating his chicken noodle soup).

Back to the present, Yuuri was already exasperated by the long duration stuck in the plane. Add in an all too curious, mouthy Russian man and he was just about ready to dive head first off the plane and hurl his skull straight into the ground.

Viktor had  _ never  _ taken economy on a plane, so he currently wiggled around like a kid on an intense sugar high as he scrambled to take in all the surrounding people in the tight space he was wedged into. Yuuri was only glad that he bought a window seat so he could properly cushion his head against his neck pillow propped on the wall next to him so sleep would take him away from the annoyances of a sixteen hour flight. 

“Yuuri!” Viktor hissed in excitement through his teeth. Yuuri grumbled an incoherent phrase--a mixture of curses in both Japanese and English that was like  _ fucking kuso _ \--as Viktor none too gently shook his shoulders. Yuuri opened one eye to glare menacingly at the Russian man, but said man was too busy being captivated at the sight of some young person with a tiny chihuahua perched on their lap. 

“Yes, it’s really cute, Viktor. Now will you let me  _ sleep _ _?”_ Yuuri snapped at Viktor, feeling too drained from the transfer flight to Canada and now  _ this _ . Viktor fixed him a sheepish grin before he swooped in to kiss the furrow of Yuuri’s eyebrows away. God, Yuuri couldn’t stay mad at  _ that,  _ could he? 

“I’m sorry,  _ my love _ _.”_ Viktor snuggled in a little closer--if it was possible seeing as they were packed in like a tuna can--until his alluring cologne wafted into Yuuri’s nose. Yuuri breathed out, shoulders sinking like an anchor at the bottom of the ocean as Viktor pressed his nose into Yuuri’s locks and pressed a placating kiss against the crown of his head.

“I’m merely amazed by how  _ tiny  _ this area is! I usually take business class so all of this is new!” His puppy like excitement touched Yuuri’s heart fondly, and he couldn’t help but giggle softly. Viktor perked up at the cute noise; if he had dog ears, they would have perked up while his tail wagged up a storm. The silver haired man cooed under his throat, saying a few words in soft,  _ loving  _ Russian. 

“It’s not that great, Viktor.” Yuuri said, his voice growing quiet as the no smoking sign and seatbelt sign flickered twice before staying lit up. The attendants checked that everyone had their seatbelts fastened before making their way back up to sit down at their own station. The plane thrummed to life, Yuuri’s paranoia surged, and Viktor gripped onto Yuuri’s hand with a reassuring smile. 

“It isn’t.” Viktor readily agreed, but his voice dipped down to a husky tone that sent chills down Yuuri’s spine. “But with you, anything is great.” He muttered, smooching Yuuri on the cheek and laughing that lovely laugh when a blush blossomed like a red rose onto the Japanese man’s pale cheeks. 

“Flatterer.” Yuuri accused with no bite. He smiled anyway though before laying his head back down against the wall. Viktor followed him, like an attached magnet, as his head lightly laid on top of Yuuri’s. Yuuri huffed through his nose, but didn’t comment on it. He would surely wake up with a small headache, but at least Viktor would kiss the pain away. 

When he groggily woke up again, he was surprised to see his tray laid down and a chilled plastic tray of disgusting airplane food sitting innocently in front of him. He barely recalled the last of his dreams before he was forcibly dragged out of his sleeping state due to his growling stomach. Yuuri blinked, yawning until his jaw popped before he moved his head, his neck cracking from being in a prone position for so long.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” Viktor chimed cheerily as he tugged off the provided earphones to smile dazzlingly bright at Yuuri. Yuuri grumbled incomprehensible gibberish as he lightly released his hold on Viktor’s hand to use both hands to peel off the plastic container of the early “dinner”. 

“How many hours has it been?” Yuuri curiously asked. His nose wrinkled at the plastic like smell of the dinner that was  _ supposed  _ to be some sort of pasta with unidentifiable meat. His nose and brain may not have agreed, but his starving stomach definitely recognized the tray in front of him as  _ food _ so he ended up inhaling the whole thing. 

“Eight hours.” Viktor responded with amusement in his voice. He watched as Yuuri practically swallowed the tray whole due to his hunger. Yuuri licked his lips. Viktor handed him a small cup of melted ice water which Yuuri gladly gulped down. Once his stomach was filled and his throat less parched, Yuuri settled back into his seat with a lazy sigh. 

“So, eight more hours…” Yuuri mused aloud. Viktor nodded and, because he couldn’t resist, the blue eyed man pressed another kiss onto the apple of Yuuri’s cheek. Yuuri only blinked owlishly, still hanging onto the vestiges of his hazy sleep with milky eyes and a yawn expelling from his throat once more.

“You’re so cute, Yuuri.” Viktor fawned over him, but Yuuri just bat away Viktor’s other unoccupied hand with his own before digging in the compartment in front of him for a pair of headphones. Viktor ended up returning to whatever movie he was watching while Yuuri found a nice Japanese movie that he definitely knew Mari liked. 

Four more hours passed in the same manner: Yuuri’s head wedged in between the crook of Viktor’s neck and the man’s cheek as Yuuri watched his own movie and Viktor reverted back and forth between movies, TV shows, and playing free games while listening to music. They didn’t speak much in the duration of the flight, but their body language was more than enough than verbal. 

“Look, Yuuri!” Viktor pointed out the window in awe. The morning sunlight from above brushed the swimming fluffy white clouds below and shimmered like soft golden glitter along the expanse of the empty green land below. The sky was painted a grayish-white, like a blank canvas about to be filled by a myriad of colors after winter was over. A small sprinkling of white could be seen from the snow clinging to the grass below. 

Yuuri pushed himself all the way back against his seat to accommodate Viktor’s larger build pressed up nearly on top of the window as he gazed down at the island below. They were currently fifteen minutes away from landing into Kyushu. Of course, once the captain notified the passengers of that fact, Viktor nearly sprung up from his seat in joy. 

“Do you think your family will like me?” The small voice, so unlike Viktor’s that Yuuri had to do a double take, quietly asked him. Yuuri blinked, staring at the unsure face of the handsome Russian man, the same man that he almost had sex with, who announced his love under a sea of a thousand stars while promising to love Yuuri--he was getting off of topic. 

“Viktor, of course.” He had no doubt about it. Instead, he watched, astonished, as uncertainty and a flicker of nervousness crumpled harsh lines on his forehead as Viktor frowned. Yuuri unconsciously smoothed his fingers down the other man’s forehead until he smoothed out the wrinkles. It was just so  _ human _ of Viktor. 

“You’re nervous.” He stated in awe. Viktor bit his lip before he hesitantly nodded. 

“Of course I am, Yuuri! They seem like amazing people and I don’t want them to dislike me or anything…” Viktor quieted down after his sudden outburst. He recoiled back against his seat like he had been struck, and Yuuri could only stare at him with something akin to wonder in his shining eyes. 

“They’re not going to dislike you, Viktor. It’s kind of hard to.” He added on the last part as more of a reassurement. Viktor smiled weakly at him before he stared blankly out the window with a pensive expression on his face. Yuuri muffled a smile when Viktor’s hand squeezed his own in gratitude, and he returned the favor with an all too pleased grin playing on his lips. If Viktor noticed, he didn’t say a peep about it. 

The landing was as anticlimactic as one would expect trying to shuffle their way off of a metal machine that was pushing the laws of physics. Yuuri grabbed his backpack stowed away under his seat while Viktor helped heave the carry on luggages from out of the compartment. The Japanese man huffed out in exasperation as Viktor then proceeded to help nearly the whole plane with their luggage until Yuuri finally just pushed the other man out towards the front. 

“You’re exhausting,” he teased, but the softness of his round eyes gave him away. Viktor grinned, all too satisfied with his heroic act for the day as he pulled his heavy, velvet luggage away towards the baggage claim to receive his other suitcase and a large bag full of, presumably, Christmas presents. 

Once they managed to haul out another hefty suitcase--filled with fucking rocks for all Yuuri knew--and throw Viktor’s Santa like sack onto the back of his suitcase, Yuuri helped Viktor lug another baggage as they headed towards the front of the airport where public transportation was conveniently located. They trickled in with the rest of the humongous group of travellers, all wary yet excited to be in Japan to spend Christmas. 

“Ooh, look at that Christmas tree, Yuuri!” Viktor headed towards the said huge tree with as much restraint as a kid before a bowl of candies while no adult resided in the same room. Yuuri sighed in irritation but still followed after Viktor lest the other man get lost--a really horrible mistake since the taller male barely knew any Japanese past greetings, “yes and no”, and simple family member titles.

“Viktor, my mom is waiting for me at the inn…” Yuuri complained, but he still posed with Viktor for a quick selfie, helped him pick a filter, and asked for the picture since it looked really nice. His cheeks were rosy and his eyes a contrasting dark blue from exhaustion, but Yuuri looked really happy. Next to him, Viktor posed with two peace signs and an adorable heart shaped smile that fluttered something awful in Yuuri’s stomach. 

“Okay, lead the way, Yuuri!” Viktor mockingly saluted to Yuuri, causing the latter to threaten to abandon him in the airport. Viktor whined at the harsh treatment but bounded after Yuuri as soon as he noticed the other man was growing farther and farther away. 

They boarded a train that somehow had a pit stop in the small town of Hasetsu that Yuuri lived in, and while they sat down in the very back of the vehicle across from each other, swamped with large baggage that was nearly Yuuri’s height sitting down, Yuuri began to softly explain in excruciating detail his hometown: 

The simplicity of the tiny town, the salty tang of the ocean breeze mingling with a distinct fishy smell in the outdoor markets, the old restaurants that had been passed down for generations in rusty exteriors and renovated interiors, the “ninja castle” (that Viktor found way too much entertainment in), and most importantly, the last of the hot springs (“Onsen,” he said, and smiled when Viktor tried to pronounce it in his thick accent) his family owned: Yutopia.

“Your hometown sounds beautiful.” Viktor complimented. A swell of affection and pride drifted up into Yuuri’s chest. He frowned a little at the nostalgic, melancholic tone of Viktor’s voice; Yuuri watched the lazy December sun float up, up, up until it was perfectly behind Viktor’s head, like he was the rising dawn of Yuuri’s life. 

“What about your hometown?” Yuuri asked, a little cautious in his words for he worried that the simple, innocent question would no doubt stir past turmoil storms and drag the other man into the depth of his memories. The worst part was that although Yuuri was never truly correct in many things, for once, he was actually  _ right _ . 

“A pretty place. St. Petersburg was-- _ is  _ a lovely place.” He didn’t elaborate further, eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to piece out a response that would quell Yuuri’s curiosity and not give away too much of his past. 

“I loved it. I used to know how to ice skate, you know. But then…” Viktor’s voice hitched, something predominantly sorrowful and terrifying in the ice of his eyes. All at once, Yuuri regretted opening his big fat mouth while a stream of sympathy rooted his mouth to the spot. He wanted to know more about Viktor. He wanted to dip his fingers past Viktor’s galaxy just as the Russian man did with him. 

“But then…” Viktor continued on with an urgency of his voice, as if to rapidly spew out all his secrets before he could regret it, “I was forced to move.” A tremble of his strong voice easily sold him out. Yuuri could only watch as the solid, strong man in front of him crumpled down, back tense and snapped forward while his elbows propped forward on his knees to support clenched fists that hid his trembling lips. 

“You don’t have to tell me anymore.” Yuuri softly urged. He could not stand the thought of the other man in heartbreak, in the depressing state he currently placed him in. Yuuri yearned to hold out his arms, to allow Viktor to fall into his arms this time instead of the other way around. Instead, he smiled comfortingly at Viktor even if it felt like sawdust on his lips and he offered an empathetic gleam of his eye. 

Viktor nodded, eyes downcast until the silver of his moonlight eyelashes fanned across the paleness of his cheeks. The small blush on his nose remained ever prevalent, a fact that Yuuri found entirely too adorable and endearing. 

“...Thank you.” Viktor murmured, thumbing away tears from his eyes. They were crystals, diamonds in his grasp once they melted off of his glacier orbs. Yuuri could only stare, dumbfounded, as Viktor fixed him with a beautifully pained smile, full of grief beyond Yuuri’s comprehension and imagination--beyond the expectation of Viktor, of a man who he once thought of as perhaps too cheerful and sweet and airheaded. 

Yet, Viktor continued to break past his theories of the other man, of the expectations he subconsciously placed upon Viktor’s shoulders. It wasn’t fair to the other man, and it certainly wasn’t fair to Yuuri himself when his depression belittled him for expecting love from a perfect, godlike man like Viktor. 

Yuuri breathed in and out. His eyes traveled around the emptied out train--not many people ventured out far as he and Viktor did--before landing on a sweet pink cherry blossom hair pin. It was seemingly lost, most likely clipped to a child’s bangs to sweep it back from getting into the child’s eyes. Yuuri stared at the clip for a while, his eyes outlining the cartoon like flower, of the manufactured red lines around the petal and the machine cut edges of the cherry blossom. 

Viktor composed himself during that silent time in the train. Yuuri only peeked at him from the corner of his eye but never linger too long. Yet, an inexplicable, entrancing force compelled him to always,  _ always  _ stray back to Viktor. He wondered if that was just like his heart: to forever be destined to lead back to the silver haired Russian. 

Except when he breathed in the salty aroma of the ocean and heard the cawing of the seagulls above, he knew that his first and foremost home would always be Japan.  _ Japan _ , his mind sang, and all he could feel was his mother’s home cooked meals, the hearty laughter of his father as he watched soccer and fought with Minako over the remote, the smoking buds of his sister’s cigarette sticks, the exuberant bark and warm plush fur from Vicchan, the slicing of skates under his feet courtesy of his best friends, and the autumn colors of the dying tree his mother spoke fondly about.

He was home.

 

 

 


	9. golden ambrosia petals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their eventful trip in Japan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey yall sorry for disappearing for like seven months :/// a lot of stuff has been going on still and i recently used up all my money on my dog (i legit had less than $2 left in my bank account ;w;) and i need more for her bc there's a huge possibility she needs to go through surgery rip
> 
> that being said, i have recently opened up writing commissions! if you could please please please consider spreading the word on tumblr or even consider commissioning [me](http://novacespace.tumblr.com/writing+commissions)\--it would help so so much! 
> 
> ok well other than that: thank you so so so much to deeyosa for the lovely, amazing fanart that can be found [here](https://twitter.com/_deeyosa/status/880421205492219907)
> 
> this is the first time i ever got fanart in my life tbh
> 
> other than that it's the usual: unbeta'd, possible plot holes/ooc characters (pls forgive me ive been typing for two weeks straight and it's come to almost 50 pages for this chapter alone), etc. PLS ENJOY!!

 

 

 

 

The first mistake when Yuuri stepped into the onsen was the fact that he forgot that Minako--loud, yet lovable, strict, yet yielding, rough, yet well-meaning Minako--would be at the inn, like she usually was. The second mistake was that Yuuri forgot to tell his family members that he brought home a fairly attractive Russian man a month after he told his parents he did  _ not  _ have a boyfriend. And the third mistake was not actually telling Viktor about their predicament either. 

Too caught up in the new revelation with Viktor and the fact that he, yet again, forgot to at least ask what kind of relationship (they never explicitly said that they were boyfriends) they had was definitely what caused the absolute chaos that Yuuri only seemed to add onto with his spluttering, red faces, and unintelligible gibberish that even a baby wouldn’t understand.

The raven haired man stepped foot into a mine zone as soon as he called out, “I’m home!” in his native language with two suitcases lugging behind him. Viktor was busy toeing off his shoes when his mother arrived, and Yuuri, to lost in his yearning of being home and his mother’s warm hugs, didn’t remember that neither Viktor nor his family knew about how he didn’t tell each other of their presence. 

So, it was no surprise when Yuuri suddenly jolted in his mother’s hold when she paused, eyes glinting in a calculating manner when she spotted Viktor, whose fancy boots with weird zippers was finally off, and Viktor noticed her. 

“Ah, Katsuki- _ san _ !” Viktor greeted with a slight accent on his part. Overall, his Japanese was still good enough to be understood, and honestly, that was all that mattered. Yuuri froze, hands still hovering around awkwardly in the spot where his mother once was as Hiroko bounded up to Viktor with matching enthusiasm and cheerfully asked who he was. 

“I’m Viktor Nikiforov, Yuuri’s--” Yuuri finally managed to snap out of his daze, his mind slamming into him full force to fucking  _ move it  _ because he was still confused about his on/off relationship with Viktor and even more confused with how to approach the matter. So he did what he always did: swept it under the rug and waited for his future self to be screwed over.

However, Viktor’s introduction and Hiroko’s basic English was more than enough for his mother to suddenly burst out in joyful tears as she lunged straight towards Viktor. Viktor easily caught her in his hold, a surprised look of befuddlement and happiness gleaming in his perfect crystal orbs. Yuuri could only sigh. 

“Oh, Yuuri!” Hiroko yelped excitedly as she ran off like a firecracker to tackle Yuuri into another hug. He grimaced, but managed to peel her off of him as she spoke in rapid fire Japanese. Behind her, Viktor still looked bewildered at the turn of events and even more so when the bundle of spirit tore away from him in the next second. 

_ Sorry,  _ Yuuri mouthed to Viktor, and received a reassuring smile from the other. If anything, the soft gleam of Viktor’s eyes--albeit with a tiny bit of sadness tainting the murky depths of the ocean in his eyes--illustrated his affection towards Yuuri and the scene before him. Yuuri just shrugged helplessly as Hiroko ran away with her mouth still excitedly babbling in Japanese. 

“She’s certainly excited to see you.” Viktor chuckled as he replaced Hiroko’s motherly warmth with his own. Yuuri sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation and eliciting a bemused chortle from the taller man. Viktor wound his arm around his waist to pull him closer, causing Yuuri to nearly topple onto the other man’s chest if he hadn’t caught himself on Viktor’s firm arms. 

He flushed, licking his lips. Viktor’s eyes followed the movement. “She’s excited to see you too, Viktor.” His eyes glimmered with amusement. “She  _ did  _ tackle you with a hug, after all.” 

Viktor just laughed. “I suppose.” The somber tone returned as he stared deep into Yuuri’s soul. “She’s a wonderful mother.” 

“Yes,” something lodged into Yuuri’s throat; he couldn’t breath, “she is an amazing mom. Though, she can be a little overbearing.” He laughed awkwardly and scratched his cheek sheepishly. Behind him, he could hear a tray being flipped onto the ground, more rapid Japanese being thrown back and forth, and a squeal from most likely Minako. He cringed. The thundering footsteps followed quickly enough, resembling a herd of spooked elephants about to squash everything in sight. 

“I’m glad.”  _ For you _ , Viktor’s eyes seemed to say, and Yuuri could only read the words in fascination--another weird quirk he developed after spending time with Viktor. Unfortunately, the tender moment between the two was quickly interrupted by his noisy family and close family friend who immediately screeched in seeing the two of them so tightly wound together. 

Yuuri quickly pulled away, red as a beet, as he regarded Minako with a weak smile and a flutter of his fingers. Minako pointed at him before springing on him like he was weakened prey and she a predator about to tear him limb from limb. 

“Who is  _ that _ ?!” She demanded as she nearly yanked his arm off from pulling him aside. Yuuri hissed at the painful feeling and Minako caught on the message easily enough. Yuuri huffed, rubbing his sore arm where Minako’s monster grip previously held onto him like he was a ragdoll. 

“Well, his name is Viktor and he’s staying here over winter break.” Yuuri quirked an eyebrow at her. “Shouldn’t you be asking him this? You know English and he’s probably feeling awkward since only Mari really knows fluent English, but you know how she is.” He gestured vaguely behind him, where, surely enough, his mother continued to babble in Japanese from her excitement, his father laughed at the comments from Hiroko, and Mari tried to translate the whole trainwreck. Poor Viktor looked lost as he was bombarded with an unfamiliar language.

“But why is he here with  _ you _ ?” Minako inquired with her own version of a raised eyebrow. Yuuri did everything he could to not blush at the implications. However, he was not blessed with a monotone face like Seung-Gil or dark skin like Phichit to hide it. 

“He’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?!” Minako demanded, sounding more and more jovial at the prospect. Yuuri debated on whether or not to shake his head and deny it or to just shrug and listen to his true feelings. Either way, Minako quieted down after a pensive silence until a sympathetic expression crawled onto her face. 

“Not yet anyway.” She corrected, and Yuuri was both horrified and embarrassed that his old teacher could read him so well. She waved him off, “I won’t ask about it or tell Viktor we had this conversation.” She reassured him. Yuuri smiled brightly at her. 

“I got your back, baby Yuu.” She teased with a harsh slap on his back. Yuuri nearly tumbled onto the ground from the sudden blow, but he caught himself in time. He stared up, feeling shifting veins and warmth seeping into his fingertips. 

“Are you okay?” Viktor worriedly asked. Yuuri could faintly hear Minako and his mom squeal louder past his pounding heart. He reddened to his toes but quickly stood up to his full height. He shuffled his feet awkwardly; Viktor’s hand etched his handprint into Yuuri’s side as he clung to Yuuri’s side like a spoiled child. 

“I’ll help bring this up to your room.” Mari offered, breaking the couple’s lost, dazed imagination. She nudged her head to the side to indicate that she wanted to speak privately with him and Yuuri sighed, patting Viktor’s arm as he released himself from the other’s strong hold to follow after his sister. He denied Viktor’s offer of help, a small smile playing on his lips as Viktor pouted. Eventually, Viktor kissed at his fleeting fingertips before Yuuri rolled his eyes fondly and, without thinking, blew Viktor a kiss. The whistling from Minako and giggling of his mother was worth it to see Viktor turn pink.

Once he walked past the doorway leading to the inside of the inn, Yuuri tugged his room door shut behind him. He fidgeted a little with the ends of his oversized jacket, sweaty fingers grasping tightly onto the soft fabric once Mari turned to him with an all-business purse of lips and a telltale scrunch of her eyebrows. 

She stuck a cigarette between her lips and leaned back against the adjacent wall from Yuuri. With a flick of her finger, the dark silver lighter in her grip released a tiny flame. Mari brought it to her lips, appearing akin to a badass mafia boss with her confident stagger and steel brown eyes. When she opened her mouth, a foggy, wispy cloud of smoke emitted from her lips. 

“So, what’s the deal with lover boy,” She jutted her chin out in the direction of the trainwreck outside, which Yuuri both dreaded and welcomed to his already hectic life. It was a wonder Phichit hadn’t yet burned down the house in the almost 24 hours Yuuri was gone anyway. 

Yuuri’s shoulders weakly shrugged. “Uh, it’s just, you know, Viktor.” He laughed humorlessly, despite Mari not knowing anything about Viktor and only hearing about him today. 

Mari raised a thin eyebrow at him. “Uh-huh. So you’re not gonna talk about how he randomly shows up with you during Christmas time, giving you goo-goo eyes like you ruined everyone else for him, and clinging to you like that one kid you once babysat--what was his name? Min-something?” 

“Minami?” Yuuri asked, plucking at the strings on his hood. He bit his lip harshly as a sign of discomfort as Mari dissected him with her firm stare. 

“Sure, him. So, little bro...” She leaned forward with all the tenacity of a business loan shark. “Who is this  _ Viktor _ ?” Yuuri gulped. He had no way of bullshitting his way out of this. And unlike with Minako, Mari was a tad bit more overprotective with his relationships, especially towards sharp cut, beautiful men like Viktor, who wore fake smiles in some occasions with the ability to find replaceable people. 

“He’s…” Yuuri gnawed at his lower lip. Mari remained unrelenting, smoking her lungs away as if it was the only way to breath. “He’s… someone I cherish. A lot.” He admitted. His sister peered through narrow slits at him; she seemed to like what she saw for she nodded slightly after her assessment and sagged back against the wall beam behind her. 

Blowing out more smoke, which Yuuri coughed at and narrowed his eyes playfully at her, Mari crossed her arms loosely and regarded him with an outside bored look. Yuuri knew better though, and he copied her position playfully enough. A ghost of a smile appeared, wispy on her lips.

“So, your love life is finally less dry than your taste in men?”  _ Jesus.  _

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “So your sex life is just as bland as your taste in idols?” 

Mari barked out a rough laugh, and Yuuri grinned, knowing that Japan--the onsen--is exactly where he belonged.

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


“Soo,” and man did Yuuri go through a weird deja vu, “what did you and your sister talk about?” Viktor feigned cool disinterest, but Yuuri’s spent a very long 16 hour flight with the man to know that Viktor was anything but nonchalant. Everything he did was mainly for his benefit, but when he committed to wanting or knowing something, he  _ ensured  _ he would capture it.

“Nothing much.” Yuuri shrugged indifferently. He slowly unpacked his clothes, smoothing down non-existent wrinkles on a sweater before leisurely hanging it up in his semi empty closet. In the corner of his eye, Viktor fidgeted from the spot he easily claimed on the small bed, eyes trained on Yuuri’s back when he thought Yuuri wasn’t aware. 

Yuuri’s heart fluttered at the sight of his crush (infatuation? obsession?) sprawled across his bed with eyes solely on him. He hid a smile, ducking under as he pretended to sort through his already organized pile of socks and underwear. Viktor’s leg started to bounce on the floor, and Yuuri nearly broke his cool facade when laughter tickled his throat. 

“Nothing much?” Viktor parroted anxiously (and a part of Yuuri marveled at how  _ human  _ Viktor acted, even if he already knew Viktor was, technically, a human), hands flying up to grip onto his hair like a lifesaver.

Yuuri felt his heart melt a little. He gingerly set down a pair of folded pants and softly moved over to Viktor. The other man’s clear blue gaze was trained on the ground when Yuuri stood in front of him, but his eyes snapped up to regard the shorter male with sad puppy eyes. Yuuri smiled gently at Viktor, shooing the other over so he could make room for himself.

“My family loves you, Viktor. I mean, I can’t tell you to like, not worry about it, but I promise you, they’re so--so, nice.” Yuuri finished lamely. He wrung his hands together, but managed a tiny, reassuring smile at Viktor. The man stared at him, wide eyed as if only learning about a man voyaging space.

Yuuri continued to babble, “I mean, they’ve been really supportive when I was all by myself in Detroit, and they sent me money whenever they could--even though I  _ explicitly _ told them not to do that--but I worried they wouldn’t have enough for the onsen.” He wildly gestured around him: to the faded walls, creaky noises, and rustic smell--it was the onsen. 

“And they definitely are, like, better than most people because I’ve met a few… interesting older figures in my life in America  _ and  _ Japan, but they could never, um, amount to my parents, you know?” He tacked on the last part, desperately hoping he didn’t sound like some babbling buffoon with a parent complex (or that he was bragging when really, he was just being honest). 

“Yuuri.” Viktor’s eyes twinkled, something overwhelmingly fond and melancholic that snatched the air from Yuuri’s slightly parted mouth. “I get it, really. Your parents are  _ wonderful _ . I guess…” He breathed out harshly through his nose, shoulders slumping down with him as he gingerly turned his body to face Yuuri. Yuuri’s heart bled with wanton affection. 

_ Is he going to… _

Viktor’s eyes flickered down to the bed. “I guess I’m more surprised since I’ve never met anyone like your parents before.” His voice remained somber and quiet, like a melting icicle dripping tear drop ripples into a peaceful lake. And Yuuri? Yuuri could only be the lake: a pool of water affected by the tiniest rippling movements from other beings as he lay there, forever rigid in one position. And as depressing as that sounded, he didn’t quite mind it at the moment. Not when Viktor’s piercing blue eyes refocused on him with a tickling feeling of  _ trust _ .

“Uh… Is that a good thing?” The raven haired male squeaked. He shifted his head to the side to avoid haunting storm eyes, but he could still  _ feel  _ the intensity crackling on his goosebump ridden skin. Viktor’s hand moved slowly in the corner of Yuuri’s eye, and he made no move to shy away when the taller male’s warm hand blanketed his own. 

“Of course it is, Yuuri.”  _ You silly thing _ , rang out in the air. Viktor’s eyes sparkled like a fresh sheet of snow on the ground. The moment was pink as a budding rose, and full of champagne bubbles that threatened to overflow from Yuuri’s throat. He wanted to scream; on the other hand, he wanted to cup Viktor’s cheeks into careful palms, hold the universe still in his fingertips, and whisper love through his lips onto Viktor’s. 

_ What are we?  _ He desired to know.  _ Are we really boyfriends? What were you going to say when you were introducing yourself? We never specified our relationship, so what are we? _ Yuuri’s head spun. Between his intrusive thoughts and Viktor’s perspicacious eyes, he couldn’t even figure out the difference in left and right at that point. 

_ Badump. Badump.  _ His heart threatened to squeeze through his rib cage and into Viktor’s awaiting hands. He blinked once, only for Viktor’s head to tilt closer to his. Their noses barely brushed; a cool breath washed over his face, but he was too absorbed in those damn blue eyes. 

“V-Viktor… I--” Yuuri started to stay, overwhelmed. He swore he joined the ranks of the tomato family with how scarlet he was. Brown orbs flitted down to parted pink lips. A gulp arose from a parched throat. He tilted his head slightly, shivering in delight as the warmth from Viktor eased slowly into his personal space and--

“YUURI!” Someone far and distant screamed downstairs; it sounded muffled to Yuuri’s ears and senses, but it snapped him out of his daze quickly. In front of him, Viktor maintained a cool facade, but a small groan fell from his lips.

“Fuck!” Yuuri swore as he nearly threw himself onto the ground. His hands quivered, his heart beat, and he didn’t realize he was sweating so much until his conscious sense returned to him with a fiery vengeance. His clothes were a little damp under his armpits, prompting him to squeeze his arms tighter to his body in hopes of sealing up the scent. 

“Uh…” Yeah, this was a tad awkward. However, the heart stopping yell became a wonderful distraction for Yuuri. It also allowed him to listen to Phichit’s sound advice and  _ finally  _ talk to Viktor about their complicated relationship and how they were going to work out with Viktor’s job and all. 

Determined, he opened his mouth first. “Viktor!” Only to wince at the booming severity of his voice. “Sorry,” he muttered sheepishly. Viktor’s mouth twitched, grin peeking from the horizon of his mouth. 

“It’s fine, Yuuri.” He patted Yuuri’s hand affectionately before entwining their fingers together. It was grossly domestic. “What were you going to say?” Viktor accentuated his question with a smooth brush of his lips against the back of Yuuri’s sweating palm. Yuuri nearly passed out.

“Uh--well, you see--I was just… you know… wondering?” His voice trailed off into a whisper as his gaze switched between the quirk of Viktor’s upturned lips and the hand that was just affectionately smooched. 

“Yes?” Viktor coaxed out patiently. Yuuri’s heartbeat echoed in his ears. 

“Uh, so, w-what does this, like, um, make us?” He ended with a high pitched squeal.  _ Well, that was totally embarrassing.  _ He cleared his throat just to make sure. “I mean, what is our, like, relationship?” 

“Oh, Yuuri. Isn’t it obvious enough?” Viktor’s eyes softened. “We’re---” 

_ BANG!  _ “IS YUURI HERE?!” A certain familiar voice screeched, panting heavily after their sentence--which was quite odd, considering the person just barged into Yuuri’s room, and no else but Yuuri was  _ obviously  _ going to be here. Yuuri  _ actually  _ groaned this time, slumping down into a hopeless puddle as he stuffed his face into his hands. Peeking through his fingers, he found a puzzled, yet no less amused, expression on the other’s face. 

“YUURI!” The bundle of tiny energy wrapped up in sparkling amber eyes and blond hair with a streak of crimson hurled straight towards Yuuri. However, the person stopped short, buzzing with ebullient vibrancy--the kind that flashed God’s light into Yuuri’s eyes and momentarily blinded him. He could never understand how the kid could find such deep devotion to plain old Yuuri, yet here the faux blond was, proving yet again to be a bigger mystery than who Max’s mom was from  _ A Goofy Movie _ . 

Minami Kenjirou bounced foot to foot, looking not a day over twelve as he clenched his fists in front of his chest in apprehension. Yuuri could already picture cartoon like golden sparkles dotting his eyes as he hesitantly removed his hands from his face. 

“Hello, Minami.” A miniscule smile ghosted on his face as he casually waved. “It’s been a while.” He ignored the confused, fascinated scrunch of Viktor’s eyebrows and patted the older man’s hand in reassurance of a translation later. He also conveniently ignored Minami’s gape as his eyes swivelled from Yuuri’s face to Viktor’s, then back down to their combined hands. 

“Y-Y-You…!” Minami grew an alarming shade of white.

“Minami? Are you okay?” Yuuri worriedly asked. Minami’s lower lip wobbled as he clutched at his chest dramatically. When actual tears began forming in the younger man’s eyes, Yuuri’s teensy worry exploded into full blown, anxiety inducing panic. 

“Y-You--You promised to wait for me!” Minami gasped shrilly (As if Yuuri’s life wasn’t already a bad enough romcom soap opera). His hands trembled as he backed away from Yuuri, appearing in the perfect role of a stricken wife discovering her cheating husband’s affair.

“A-Ah…” Yuuri sheepishly laughed. “Minami, that was--like--when you were five years old and you refused to leave Yutopia.” 

“IT WAS A PROMISE! MY FEELINGS ARE REAL!” Minami wailed, flinging his hands out wildly. “Yuuri, you… you… Idiot!” And with that final  _ loud  _ proclamation, the blond fled the scene with tears flying out of his eyes and his face buried in his hands. A bewildered, “what happened, Minami?” echoed from Yuuri’s mother as Minami tearfully recounted the whole incident through thick hiccups. 

Yuuri never felt more of a headache than now. Well, other than the few times with Phichit, but that was a whole different kind of headache. The one he harbored now was still mighty as ever, but nothing could ever hurt his head more than the time Phichit got run over by Otabek’s motorcycle.  _ God _ . 

“Uh, Yuuri.” Viktor’s voice caused him to snap his head over to the Russian man. Viktor’s head was tilted to the side slightly, like an adorable puppy that couldn’t figure out why humans were such complicated beings. Yuuri could relate. He  _ awww _ ’d inwardly at Viktor’s curious look before returning the kiss onto the back of Viktor’s hand. It wasn’t his fault he was a sucker for cute, puppy like things.

“What was that about?” Viktor’s cheeks were painted a delightful pink hue, much to Yuuri’s obvious infatuation. He quirked a sassy eyebrow at Viktor while a teasing smile appeared on his face. God, what was he doing?

“It’s called a kiss on the back of the hand, Viktor.” Yuuri’s eyes fluttered to a half mast as he smiled slyly at Viktor. It was a fun game, watching how many shades of pink Viktor could turn until the man collapsed into a similar goo pile.  _ Good,  _ Yuuri thought triumphantly with a surge of confidence he hasn’t felt in years,  _ I shouldn’t be the only one affected. _

“Not that, Yuuri,” Viktor whined. His cheeks were still tinted a light pink as he pressed his body closer to Yuuri’s. The addicting heat sucked Yuuri back in, and he couldn’t help but lean forward until their shoulders briefly touched. 

“You mean Minami?” 

“Is that his name?” Viktor cocked his head to the side again. Yuuri just kind of repeated his gentlemanly kiss on the back of Viktor’s hand again. Maybe puppies were the confidence boost Yuuri needed? 

“Yeah. I mean, technically his name is Kenjirou, since the whole, you know, Japanese thing. Uh, like the surname thing? That’s a part of the, like, culture? And wow, I am bad at explaining things.” Yuuri muttered, horrified. He wrenched his hand away from Viktor, but to no avail--the taller male refused to give up his hand and in response to Yuuri’s feeble attempt to free himself, tugged Yuuri closer. 

“I get it, Yuuri.” Viktor laughed, bright and shining as a star. Yuuri wondered if this was round two for God’s light honing in on his gay ass (even if there was no hope for him anymore) to try to sway him to be “normal”. 

“So, this  _ Minami _ .” Viktor’s tongue heavily pressed against the name. His accent was definitely off, but it was more cute than anything. “Who is he?” Again with the neutral, unaffected mask--Yuuri’s skin itched unpleasantly, but he answered normally anyway.

“When I was, uh--eleven? Twelve?--Minami used to hang around here a lot. I was put on babysitter duty, and long story short, he wouldn’t stop following me. Sometimes, he would stay here for a  _ full week _ while his parents were busy.” 

“A  _ week _ ?” Viktor parroted with wide eyes. 

Yuuri’s mouth turned to a grim line. “A week.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t too bad, other than the, I guess, hero worship? I don’t even know what I did… Minami’s always been kind of clingy, but he got worse? One day, out of the blue. I dunno.” In fact, Yuuri couldn’t remember a day back before Minami suddenly declared himself the best suitor for Yuuri’s hand in marriage and basically demanded to be by his “lover’s” side daily. The adults thought it was positively adorable--Yuuri, not so much. 

Viktor squeezed his hand in comfort. “You  _ are  _ a wonderful person. There’s no doubt that Minami would fall easily for you when you are so amazing.” His tone was hushed, quiet as a baby’s lullaby. Yuuri’s heart was touched, but his brain scoffed at the romantic statement.

“You must tell that to all your clients.” Yuuri weakly guffawed. Viktorr’s eyes darkened until only a ring of ice blue scorched Yuuri’s skin.

The silver haired male frowned. “I don’t. Yuuri, you’re not my client. You’re more than that.”  _ Am I really?  _ Yuuri wanted to scoff, whine, cry.  _ Is this any different from how you treat other people? ...I really did rush into this.  _

Something in Yuuri’s face must have leaked his true emotions for Viktor’s face puckered into something less attractive and more humanlike. Viktor sucks in a deep breath, but Yuuri stops him with cool eyes that are almost cold. His hands slip from Viktor’s as he sighs deeply, rustling his hair with a tired look. 

“Viktor, who am I to you, really?” Yuuri was surprise at the lack of stutter in his voice--his tone is calm, collected, yet a harsh tone underlies beneath, prowling like sharks in a feeding frenzy. Viktor’s eyebrows pinch together before it clears, like the sun dawning over the clouds and clearing up the sky. 

“Who do you want me to be, Yuuri?” He gingerly inquired. He patiently leaves room for Yuuri, as if indicating that he was setting Yuuri free. Yuuri’s heart stung, but he pulled a brave face and stared Viktor straight in the eye with all the courage he could muster. He thinks of the words he can use to describe this inexplicable feeling, to convey the helpless, hopeless flutter of his heart when Viktor’s patient, cool hands smooth over his soul.

The silence is unbearable, but Viktor breaks it first. “A brother? A friend? A parental figure?” He lists out, and the sinking pit in Yuuri’s stomach expands into a black hole. He feels almost as if he’s being treated like a client still, like Viktor’s only asking because he could fit the role perfectly, could pretend and be a cold, untouching ice prince that would rip Yuuri’s heart out with his bare hands before moving on. 

“A lover?” A crooked smile, teasing and fleeting and painfully handsome flickers on his lips like a candle’s flame. “I promise I can try my best.” His eyes narrow to a harrowing crescent and despite the punchline behind it, it’s obvious that Viktor is deeply conflicted with his own words, and the fact both surprises and worries Yuuri. 

“No!” Yuuri snaps aloud. He softens his voice when he recognizes the flinch rolling from Viktor’s shoulders. “No. I don’t want you to  _ be  _ anyone else. I don’t want you to be anyone but yourself, Viktor.” It’s his time to coddle, he realizes, as he stares into the murky waters of Viktor’s eyes. Yuuri’s fingers dip down, down to paint intricate circles into Viktor’s hand; almost as if he were an ice skater on the hard ice of Viktor’s closed up front.

“Okay.” Viktor’s eyes regain the light, the shimmer of white crystals dazzling Yuuri into a slight daze before he shakes it off like a dog with wet fur. Through the thin walls, he can hear his mother shout that an early dinner is ready (at like 3-4 pm), can hear the buzz of excited sports commentators on the soccer game his father loved to watch and the heated complaints from Minako who just wanted to watch ice skating or ballet or  _ something  _ that wasn’t soccer for once. 

Yuuri sighs. He relinquishes his tender hold on Viktor first. “It’s dinner time, I guess.” A shaky smile. “We can talk more about this later.” 

“...talk more?” Viktor repeats, partly in confusion. Yuuri is astounded that Viktor can just assume things would be fine after their brief chat, and his expression seems to enlighten Viktor, judging by the awkward, hollow laughter he produces. A sliver of anger flares up in Yuuri’s heated belly, but he reminds himself that Viktor is just as new to this dating thing as Yuuri is---well, he assumes so anyway. 

“Look, Viktor.” He pauses at the door frame of his room and slouches against it, copies the actions of his more badass sister and crosses his arms in front of his chest. Viktor straightens up immediately, imploring eyes searching Yuuri’s. 

“I really like you,” he openly admits, and the weight from his chest both loosens and tightens up at the same time, “and I think you know that.” Viktor obs his head up and down sloppily, eliciting a rough twitch of Yuuri’s lips before it falls back to a serious line. 

“I want this to work, I really do. I just--” he bites his lip, “I just need to know that you’re just as serious about this as I am.” He hopes his voice doesn’t sound like he’s begging instead of the stern adult he’s hoping to personify (which may or may not be entirely influenced by Mari). 

“Of course I am, Yuuri.” Viktor is quick to reassure, but it doesn’t mollify Yuuri’s anxiety. 

Yuuri hears his mother’s call once more, but he ignores it in favor of pinning Viktor with a serious look. “Then are you going to continue to be an escort, or host or, like, whatever your job title is?” His question silences Viktor fast enough. Yuuri sighs again, loosening his crossed arms so that he can lightly touch the door frame. 

“Think about it, Viktor. If you want this,” he gestures to the both of them, “ _ us _ to work out, then you’re going have to reconsider whether or not being a host is, like, a good idea for a serious commitment.”  _ Phichit would be proud.  _ Yuuri thinks sardonically. He turns around after coolly watching Viktor--who’s long bangs shadow the left side of his face while light blue eyes flicker his knees with a firm grasp on his chin; a thinking pose--to depart downstairs. 

The rest of it is a colorful blur, but he carefully crafts a pretty unconvincing unperturbed veil over his face. His family isn’t fooled, Yuuri knows. Neither is he. 

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


The rest of the evening is less awkward of an event than he predicted it to be. Minami sulked the whole time, but eventually opened up enough to start blabbering about his school life, activities, and friends. Yuuri is still surprised that Minami is actually seventeen, instead of the young little child he once was, clinging to Yuuri’s knees and begging to stay another night. He’s less clingy, which is nice, but the kid was still just a kid in Yuuri’s eyes. 

Viktor acted like nothing happened between the two of them, which Yuuri is both grateful for and irritated at. He yearns to rip off the multiple characters Viktor has created for the public, and he pointedly stares at his plate the whole evening. When questioned about his lack of hunger (they were eating  _ katsudon  _ that night), Yuuri shrugged it off indifferently, stating that he was extremely jet lagged and famished. Thankfully, his mother ushered him to bed quickly. 

And even better, Mari directed Viktor to a guest room that night, so Yuuri didn’t have to suffer another awkward staredown while they shuffled around each other in Yuuri’s tiny room. Viktor didn’t voice a word of complaint, but if he shot Yuuri puppy eyes and yearning looks during dinner, Yuuri didn’t notice (or pretended not to). 

On the downside, however, Mari informed him earlier that Vicchan was at the Nishigoris’ place for the evening due to the sudden holiday rush for the inn with new tourists and everything (which explained the lack of pitter patter of paws on hardwood floor and the high yips of excitement). The Nishigoris were old childhood friends of Yuuri, and he was both dreading and hoping for when he would visit them again. 

Yuuri bodily catapults himself onto his bed, bouncing once against the sheets as the wooden frame creaks in protest. He sighs, air heaving out of his body as he curls up on his side and stares blankly at the wall. His mind is too congested with meddlesome thoughts that prevent him from sleeping like his body screams at him to. 

Silence befalls his room. The hallway light underneath his door is the only source of luminosity in his room, illuminating shadows on his walls that curl and claw at the structure like gnarled tree branches and demon hands. It’s quiet in Hasetsu, which is quite unsettling since he’s lived in a cheap, squeaky apartment with Phichit for as long as he’s stayed in America.  Usually the roads would be filled with quiet chatter from random college kids on night walks (probably to procrastinate more) or the occasional drunk from the bar down the street. 

In the neighborhood of Detroit, everything is cluttered together. In Hasetsu, Yutopia is located in a quiet district with older people that sleep at eight pm; not to mention the common unspoken rule of quiet after ten pm. Yuuri doesn’t know which one he prefers more, but he does miss Japan like a parent after their child leaves for college. 

It’s 12 am when he receives a text from someone, the buzz of his phone on his desk startling him from his sleepy state. He was so close to falling asleep too… Grumpily, he snags his phone off of its charger and turns on the bright device, cringing as he sets the lighting all the way down. The most recent text is from Phichit, but judging by the  _ 17  _ alerts he’s received, Yuuri is about to experience either utter  _ bullshit  _ or a legitimate emergency (there was no in between with his roommate). 

Other than Phichit, there’s four messages from Leo, seven messages from Guang Hong, and two from Seung gil in one chat while three are from Yuri. There’s even one from Otabek, which is weird because Yuuri never gave him his skype contact name, but he guesses that Yuri must have supplied that information to the stoic raven haired man. Yuuri opens up the skype chat he has with Yuri first, smiling as he reads the message.

 

December 15th, 9:09pm

**furriopawsetsky:** are you dead

December 17th, 12:07am

**vicchan4lyfe is typing…**

**vicchan4lyfe:** i wish

 

He scrolls through the other chats as well as Yuri immediately begins typing. 

 

December 15, 10:31pm

 

**bitchit:** yuuri u there fam?

**bitchit:** and by there i mean the land of animes and weird porn

**bitchit:** a weaboo’s wet dream ;)))

**bitchit:** boioioi i know u arrived in japan already u snek

**bitchit:** i checked ur flight n it says u there 

**bitchit:** r u banging vicky

**bichit:** remember to wrap yalls willie

**bichit:** u dont need no stds, fren

**bichit:** imagine that… like merry crumpas u got aids

**bichit:** wait isnt vik a chrisinkle bby

**bichit:** u should ask for a present ; ))

**bichit:** like ‘cum down my chimney santa bby’

**gayhongkong:** alkdjflak;df phichit why

**gayhongkong:** im @a dinner with my strict fam n leo

**gayhongkong:** n ur messages kept going off so i left

**gayhongkong:** n i come back to this????

**bichit:** dont u mean cum ;)))))

**gayhongkong has left the chat.**

**bichit has added gayhongkong to the chat.**

**gayhongkong:** i hate u delete ur twitter account n urself 

**bichit:** nuuu neva xDD

**leonardodicaprio:** guang hong where tf r u ur parents are starting to ask me qs about my future

**leonardodicaprio:** i cant even decide what im going to do the next day how tf am i supposed to know

**leonardodicaprio:** tHEY STARTEDASKIN G ME AVOU T FUYTURE GRANE CHULDREN

**gayhongkong:** new phone who dis

**leonardodicaprio:** ur a snake and if u dont coem back im divorcing u

**gayhongkong:** we’re married lol?

**bichit:** *grabs popcorn* nom nom x3

**leonardodicaprio has left the chat.**

**bichit:** ooh get em snatch his weave off

**gayhongkong:** i jk leo i love u bae pls come back

**bichit:** *cum 

**gayhongkong has left the chat.**

**bichit added gayhongkong and leonardodicaprio to the chat.**

**bichit:** welp that was fun gotta blast ;) u better txt me back yuuri or ill set the house on fire again OvO#

**seung-gil:** phichit get off or i wont bring u food from my family’s restaurant 

**seung-gil:** also, i hope you had a safe flight, yuuri.

December 17th, 12:11am

**vicchan4lyfe:** thank you seung gil, i hope your dinner went well guang hong and leo, and also if you set the house on fire, phichit, im gonna kill you :)

 

Yuuri muffles a snicker as Phichit’s name instantly jumps up as he began furiously typing. Yuuri decides to check on his last message from Otabek, probably one of the most sane people he knows (other than Seung-gil).

 

December 16th, 1:04am

**altinbrown:** thanks for the food, was really good. have a safe flight

December 17th, 12:13am

**vicchan4lyfe:** im glad you liked it!!! thank you!

 

Finally, Yuuri turns back to Yuri’s message, which had been sent five minutes beforehand. Another ten messages were from Phichit alone, with an additional four between Leo and Guang Hong. Just to piss Phichit off, Yuuri decides not to answer back until the morning, and he switches to Yuri’s name before he fell asleep. 

 

12:15am

**furriopawsetsky:** what did the dumbass do this time

**vicchan4lyfe:** who?

**furriopawsetsky:** viktor duh

**furriopawsetsky:** fucking moron

**vicchan4lyfe:** how did you…? 

**furriopawsetsky:** ur not exactly subtle, katsudon

**furriopawsetsky:** isnt it like late over there y r u still fucking awake???

**vicchan4lyfe:** idk im tired tho im gonna pass out now

**furriopawsetsky:** we’re talking about this tmrw asshole

 

Yuuri passed out after typing his last sentence, shortly after Yuri’s response showed up in the chat. His mouth slightly open and screen light illuminating his face, the Japanese male easily fell into a dark, dreamless slumber. 

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


At about seven am, Yuuri’s jet lagged body decides to spring them awake, and they’re pleasantly awoken by a few chirping birds by their window and a breathtaking view of the sunrise outside. They parts their curtains softly, watching the beauty of Japan yawn and arise from its drowsy sleep, as the nature they missed while in a dingy, urban apartment washes over them. 

They breath in, out. The air is as fresh as Yuuri remembers. 

_ Should probably tell Viktor and my family my pronouns today,  _ Yuuri sleepily thinks, stretching with a yawn already out of their mouth. A faint buzzing beneath their skin irritates them, like a scratch waiting to be itched is plastered all across their body.

By the time they are up, their parents are already cooking breakfast to early risers in the dining room while Mari serves them with a tired yawn in between each table. They were sorely tempted to check Viktor’s room to see if the other was awake or not, but opted not to--Yuuri was still respectful of Viktor’s space and figured the male should catch up on much needed sleep anyway.

However, they don’t expect to meet Viktor’s dazzling grin so early in the morning as the male helps their mother in the kitchen. Hiroko smiles fondly, patting Viktor’s cheek whenever he’s done with a task as a way to communicate with him. Her English is weak, but they still talk through their hands and the small understanding of Japanese and English. 

It’s so domestically sweet, Yuuri’s breath is swept from their lungs. 

“Ah, good morning, Yuu-kun!” Hiroko cheerfully greets her child, a thousand watt grin lighting up her face as she runs over to kiss her sleepy baby on the forehead. Yuuri smiles back at her, mirroring her action with their own kiss on her other cheek. She giggles lightly before returning to her station. 

“Good morning, Yuuri!” Viktor instantly wanders over to Yuuri with his own delightful grin that’s shaped like a soft heart. He smooches Yuuri on the forehead--which definitely wakes up the latter--and clings to Yuuri like a second skin. 

Yuuri would be confused and still a little irritated at Viktor, but they’re still a little sleepy, even though their body declares it as dinner time (seeing that it’s 7 in the evening back in Detroit). So, Yuuri accepts a mug of coffee from their mother, dumps in as much vanilla sweetener (bought specifically by their parents prior to his return) as possible in the cup without the liquid overflowing, and mixes in a spoonful of sugar with a spoon. When they’re contently sipping at the hot piping coffee, the shorter person finally catches Viktor’s eye, who’s simply amazed, yet disgusted, by the over sugary concoction. 

Yuuri bristles defensively, tucking their hot coffee into their chest and turning away. “I don’t like bitter things.” They grumble. Viktor just laughs, cupping his own  _ black  _ coffee (“You  _ monster _ ,” Yuuri gasps when Viktor drinks the coffee while staring playfully into Yuuri’s eyes) and clinking their mugs together as a mock cheers. 

Hiroko sets down a traditional Japanese breakfast set in front of the two immature kids who are playing footsie under the table and sticking tongues at each other; she hides a huge grin behind her hand and titters as she floats away to tell her husband. Yuuri teaches Viktor how to use chopsticks for about thirty seconds before declaring Viktor a lost cause and scrounging up a fork for the other to use. 

Viktor denies the fork easily and chooses to stab his chopsticks into the salmon. Yuuri snorts while sophisticatedly downing their miso soup as the salmon on the chopsticks fall off and back onto Viktor’s plate. Viktor pouts, but doesn’t seem too put off by it. Instead, he carefully scrapes the Japanese pickles, grilled salmon, and natto into his bowl of rice and shovels the food into his mouth with the chopsticks. 

“This is  _ amazing _ , Yuuri!” Viktor exclaims through bites. It’s a wonder he’s even able to breath with how fast he’s scarfing down the food, really. Yuuri hides a pleased smile behind their chopsticks, but Vikor catches them anyway. More foot wrestling under the table ensues as they eat in companionable silence, and the tension and annoyance from the day before melts under Viktor’s affectionate eyes and pretty laughter. Yuuri is sure they’ve never been happier.

“Let’s go out on a date, Yuuri!” Viktor practically vibrates in his seat as Yuuri sets their dishes into the sink after a quiet breakfast. They had shooed the man away when Viktor rose up with his dishes in hand, insisting that the guest shouldn’t have to clean up after himself. 

Yuuri falters as they scrub a plate with a soapy sponge. “Yeah, that’s fine.” They keep their tone neutral as Viktor cheers in excitement. Yuuri shakes their head; they finish up the rest of their dishes in no time flat as Viktor runs up the stairs like a kid Christmas morning to get ready. 

The raven haired person shakes their head, but a wry smile forms across their cheeks without their consent anyway. At a more leisurely pace, they step up the stairs while holding onto the railing. As they pass by Viktor’s room and the bathroom, they hear a few banging noises from the bathroom and a pained grunt from presumably Viktor. Yuuri just grins wider and sets off to change into something more decent than baggy sweats and a dirty t-shirt. 

Fifteen minutes later, Viktor is blowdrying his hair while Yuuri idly flicks through their phone. They had finished changing into something practical and comfy ten minutes ago, and just decided to chat with Phichit and the rest of their unruly group (mainly the former). They’re about to type out a long, lengthy paragraph of why hamsters shouldn’t be given  _ pina coladas  _ (“I don’t care if it’s a virgin pina colada; honestly Phichit,  _ what the hell _ ?”) when Viktor finally steps out of the bathroom, the same familiar heart shaped smile carven on his face and a matching wink that sets Yuuri’s skin aflame. 

Yuuri’s mouth drops. Viktor’s grin grows smug as he flips his fake long silver hair behind his shoulder--which is beautifully tied into a casually loose braid--to present his full outfit to a shocked Yuuri. In response, Yuuri’s eyes flit up and down Viktor’s attire with nothing short of lovestruck awe. A chill strokes sensually down Yuuri’s spine, and they gulp at the utter ethereal beauty standing straight in front of them. 

Viktor’s attire consisted of a long pink wool cardigan to his ankles, a flowy white dress slightly above his knees, brown ankle boots with a little heel, and black socks that clung over his knees like tights. Paired with a simple golden necklace, a cute white purse resembling a bookbag, and light makeup (Phicht would be jealous of that winged eyeliner though), the silver haired Russian was a stunning masterpiece straight from an infamous art museum and brought to life to wreak havoc to humanity.

“Viktor… You look…  _ Amazing _ .” Yuuri breathes. They’re fairly certain an unnatural hue of pink is hanging off their ears and crawling down to their neck the more they fidget under playful, pleased eyes. Viktor giggles--which is honest to god  _ unfair-- _ and Yuuri nearly escapes back to their bedroom.

“Thanks, Yuuri.” He says graciously, even going as far as to bow slightly. With his heels, Viktor is another few inches taller than Yuuri, and he practically towers above the other like some long legged deity that Yuuri is  _ this  _ close to worshipping. They’re torn between envy and admiration: partly since they would never amount to the beauty Viktor is in an adorable dress and partly because Viktor is so breathtakingly  _ real  _ and if Yuuri so wanted to, they could kiss the lip gloss right off Viktor’s lips without any qualms or complaints. 

Yuuri is suddenly stuck with how plain they appear, how mediocre and laughable they are compared to Viktor. They’re tiny contrast to Viktor, and oh so  _ unattractive  _ standing next to Viktor in unflattering jeans and a dark navy blue hoodie. Their face scrunches up a little before Viktors sweet smelling hands are cupping their cheeks and planting a firm smooch on Yuuri’s unsuspecting lips. 

_ Oh,  _ they think hazily,  _ his lipgloss is peach flavored.  _ When the duo’s lips reluctantly draw apart with a wet smack, Yuuri’s positive their face will no longer return to its former color. Fortunately, they’re not the only one affected for a heady blush scatters across Viktor’s cheeks like cherry blossoms. 

“You’re beautiful too, Yuuri,” Viktor whispers passionately as he dives in for another kiss. Yuuri sighs through their nose; they’re lightly nudged against the solid wall behind them, head tipped back to accommodate Viktor’s height increase and searing lips. 

Viktor releases his hold on them first. “So don’t compare yourself to me. You’re beautiful in ways I could never imagine myself to be.” 

“Wha--” Yuuri blinks the stardust from their eyes. “I mean--” They’re driven into silence by Viktor’s fingers carving a path down their heated cheeks before Yuuri’s hand is within VIktor’s grasp. Viktor’s lips are warm on the back of Yuuri’s palm, and the twinkle in crystal blue eyes could outshine the sun itself. 

“I’ll show you how I feel,  _ my sunshine.”  _ Viktor promises with a soft grin. Yuuri blinks again, but can only nod in agreement out of equal parts bewilderment and skepticism. Don’t misunderstand, Yuuri is still kind of peeved about Viktor’s seemingly empty declarations of love. They don’t know whether to trust Viktor’s words or to blindly believe the Russian man with an open heart.

_ That’s what got me here in the first place,  _ Yuuri’s mind grimaces,  _ that’s why we’re in this weird relationship with little understanding of what we are and whether or not he’s serious.  _ They glance to their side briefly, catching Viktor’s eye. Viktor’s smile isn’t a sugar coated lie, and Yuuri  _ does  _ want to at least talk with Viktor and  _ attempt  _ to sustain their relationship. They mentally remind themselves to seriously sit down and discuss their worries with Viktor later.

Viktor tugs on Yuuri’s hoodie sleeve. “You ready for our date,  _ sunbeam _ ?” Yuuri deeply breathes in and out. Viktor’s hand squeezes their own in reassurance before Yuuri nods in determination. 

“Yeah, let’s go.” Viktor leads the way out (which is a surprise) of the inn with a merry wave to Yuuri’s surprised family and stunned patrons. He fixes his braid to lay in front of him before beaming at Yuuri. 

“I did a lot of research of places we could go to!” Viktor’s nose is already a cherry color, Yuuri notices, and they’re suddenly anxious about the chilly December weather and Viktor’s thin clothing. They meekly pull on Viktor’s cardigan twice to recapture his attention--he was babbling about some store he discovered on the internet--before fixing concerned eyes on the taller male.

“Are you going to be okay? Isn’t it, like, cold for you?” They bite their lip.

Viktor chortles, waving off Yuuri’s concerns. “I’m Russian, Yuuri. This is nothing compared to St. Petersburg.” The telltale darkening of his irises illustrate his discomfort with that particular topic, so Yuuri stays clear from there. A stiff atmosphere clouds over them until Yuuri clears their throat.

“Oh, uh, by the way…” Yuuri’s heart thumps painfully in their chest, “Uh, I don’t think I ever, um, told you? I’m, like, genderfluid, which means I don’t have, like, a fixed gender? Does that makes sense?” 

“Hmm… I’ve heard of the term before. So, then, are your pronouns they/them or…?” Viktor curiously asks, which is a positive sign for Yuuri since they half expected Viktor to throw them off in disgust and hightail it back to America on the next plane ride back. Yuuri cautiously bobs their head up and down. 

“Yeah, today I go by they/them, but usually I’m like fine with he/him pronouns. I dunno, I feel more comfortable this way.” They weakly explain, a miniscule smile on their face. Viktor hums thoughtfully. He swings their hands back and forth between them while guiding the both of them to the nearest train station, which is conveniently close to the inn.

“Okay. Then I’ll use those pronouns for today.” Viktor’s eyes are honest and true, and Yuuri briefly wonders how they thought they could ever leave Viktor’s side without major heartbreak on their side.

“I might mess up a few times though, so don’t hesitate to slap some sense into me if I do!” Viktor finishes his sentence with a dorky wink. Yuuri huffs, but otherwise doesn’t reply back to that. Curiously, they switch their gaze over to Viktor’s extended hair; Viktor evidently notices, for he flicks a stray hair loose from his braid to the side, smiling in a gentle, yet proud manner.

“You’re wondering why I’m wearing extensions, aren’t you, Yuuri?” Viktor points out. Caught staring, Yuuri ducks their head down to the side to avoid Viktor’s kind gaze.

“Yeah… A little.” 

Viktor adopts a despondent tone with a twitch of forced lips. “I used to have hair as long as this.” Yuuri can only infer that Viktor chopping off his own hair (or someone else) is entirely not by choice, but by some twisted obligation or force. Viktor twists another strand of silver wig hair with nimble fingers before letting it limply drop on the side of his face.

“It was for the better.” He sounds unconvinced. “Would have made me a ‘better man’, I guess.” His mouth stretches into a tight, humorless smile as he scrutinizes the streets in front of them.

“You’re not a ‘better man’ if you cut your hair, though. Like, that just sounds really, like, I dunno, like  _ awful  _ how someone would say that to you. I don’t know.” Yuuri is beyond fuming that someone once made Viktor doubt his masculinity enough for him to cut his hair when he obviously enjoyed the length. Yuuri nudges Viktor with their shoulder until Viktor’s miserable, suspiciously damp blue irises returns to Yuuri’s aggressively supportive face.

“Just because your hair is long or short, or  _ whatever,  _ doesn’t mean you’re unless less of a man or person. You’re  _ amazing  _ because you’re  _ you,  _ Viktor. And I will fight anyone that says otherwise.” Yuuri passionately rants, swinging a fist up as a mock sign of their ability to fight.

Viktor’s deer in headlights expression is spot on, and before Yuuri can regret all of their garbled words, Viktor tilts his head back to accommodate an encompassing guffaw and identical grin; the weak winter light still manages to capture every little achingly beautiful detail of the fair headed man, and Yuuri has to swallow down an awed gasp.

“You never fail to surprise me, Yuuri.” Viktor fondly compliments. The twinkle in faded periwinkle orbs replaces the gloomy gray previously invading his lovely eyes; Yuuri is immensely grateful from the transformation, and they flaunt their appreciation by affectionately tucking a wild strand of hair behind Viktor’s ear with a similar twinkle in their cinnamon coated eyes.

The sparkle of their smile is plainly obvious; even with little communication the rest of the way, the two are widely untroubled with peeks at each other when the other isn’t looking like a pair of lovestruck teenagers. And as they wait for the next train, Yuuri begins to slowly relax. The anxiety is still ever present (as always), but they’re content with where they are currently and can barely feel anybody’s gaze (or paranoia) on their and Viktor’s body. 

Something about Viktor compels Yuuri to confess their deepest fears, their darkest monsters, their worst sins. They want to unload everything off their chest; they want to bear their heart to Viktor and exclaim,  _ “look, look! This is what you do to me,”  _ with an almost proud cheer. Yuuri is afraid, vastly so, but they’re even more addicted to the feeling of love and being loved and the notion of giving their all to someone unconditionally. 

Viktor excitedly hauls Yuuri into the train after him while Yuuri squawks, laughs, and tries to keep up with the other’s unremitting ardor. They secure a spot with the window behind them, giggling like high school teenage lovers committing less than savory acts. Exhilaration balloons in Yuuri’s stomach until they don’t know if they’re shaking with giddiness or not. 

They smoothly transition from train to bullet train for their journey to Tokyo (which will take about max five hours) while Yuuri remains a pensive, quiet individual that will never be used to actively going on dates.

But Viktor? He’s able to chat up a storm for sure. There’s never a quiet moment, not when he’s passionately explaining the world of makeup or eagerly recounting the times he nearly broke the law with his best friend, Christophe. Yuuri recognizes the name instantly, and they’re immensely relieved that their relationship does not exceed friendship.

“That all sounds really wild. I think the most wildest thing I’ve done is get really drunk and kick us out of a bar. Well, technically my friends and I were kicked out of like twenty one? Yeah, twenty one different places.” Yuuri recalls, tapping their lips as they reminisce the morning after and the degrading photos Phichit captured the nights before. 

Viktor guffaws until he hunches over to clutch onto his stomach. Yuuri only watches in amusement as their partner rights himself up again and shakily gasps out of his mouth. The sight is way more cute than they should credit, but Yuuri is discovering more and more about themselves--and that includes how sappy they can get.

“How is that not as wild as what I’ve done?” Viktor laughs, a strong tinkling noise that curls around Yuuri’s ears. 

Yuuri shrugs helplessly. “Most of the time, it’s not even me. Yeah, I’ll get like really drunk and start stripping--” 

_ “Stripping?”  _ Viktor raises both eyebrows, mouth shaping into a delighted ‘o’. Yuuri clamps their mouth shut instantly. 

“Forget you heard that.” They groan, growing red in the face and trying to salvage the last pieces of their dignity by suffocating in their hoodie’s sleeve. 

“No, wait, Yuuri, you can’t just--” Viktor breaks off to laugh brightly, “You can’t just lead me on like that!” 

“Noo,” Yuuri whines in their sleeve and shuffles their body away from Viktor’s while turning their back to the other. Viktor is just as adept as whining, if not better, however, which leads to Yuuri nearly melting back into the older man’s arms. Viktor’s nose nuzzles against the hot skin of their ear, an entirely too endearing croon tone of voice and sugary sweet words seeping into Yuuri’s skin like poison. 

“Yuuri, please?” Viktor’s voice comes out as a squeak at the end. It’s too much for Yuuri. They make the mistake of swerving their head to fix Viktor with a fake stink eye and catch Viktor’s lower lip pathetically wobbling as the center masterpiece of his kicked puppy act. They never stood a chance in the first place. 

Yuuri sighs, and they’re too absorbed in eyeing Viktor warily, but fondly, to care about the giggling girls across from them or the older woman who hides her smile behind wrinkly fingers. Yuuri turns in Viktor’s hold while his mind and heart collectively sigh in unison. 

“Okay, fine.” They mumbled out the last part: “I’m a blackout drunk.” 

“Eh, Yuuri, what was that?” Viktor innocently questions, but Yuuri knows better. They repeat themselves a little louder, but Viktor asks--with a shark like grin--for Yuuri to repeat themselves again. Yuuri answers back by sticking out their tongue and facing the other way again. Viktor whines and coos and whispers in Yuuri’s ear, for them to hear him and him alone, and naturally, Yuuri is a fool that begrudgingly sinks back into Viktor’s arms (this cycles on until they nearly miss the stop to transfer to Shibuya (Harajuku Station in particular) and Yuuri lightly scolds Viktor for distracting them). 

After the lengthy train rides, Yuuri is overjoyed to walk on land again. They stretch their legs out first, bumbling off with Viktor in tow this time as they exit the train in an excited, yet orderly fashion. There’s swarms of people, even coming out of the train, and Yuuri clutches to Viktor’s hand like a lifeline so that neither are washed away by the sea of people. 

“Wow!” Viktor excitedly cries out. “This is a lot of people!” He gestures to the masses in the tiny room he’s given as they’re shoved farther away from the train. Yuuri can’t help but laugh in agreement; they lead the way out of the station, murmuring half assed apologies to rude, impatient people that elbow and shove and push at them to walk faster or slower or whatever.

It’s a breath of literal fresh air once they escape from the overcrowded station and into the street. The city is vastly different from the more rural countryside that Yuuri’s used to living in, but they’ve visited Tokyo plenty of times while still living in Japan (sometimes with Mari, often times with Takeshi and Yuuko) so they’re fine with the bustling crowds out during the holiday season. Next to them, Viktor is much less fine. 

Once again, he’s fascinated by  _ everything  _ in Japan; even the Christmas trees and lights strung around malls and the outside doorways of businesses that they could find in America is somehow  _ amazing  _ to Viktor. 

“Is this your…” Yuuri pauses to catch their breath after chasing Viktor’s excited form down the street, “...your first time in Japan?” 

“Yeah, why?” Viktor stares down at the exhausted form of his companion. Yuuri is yet again astonished by how much energy Viktor has. While on the train, Viktor stated how his old age hindered him in daily activities (whatever that meant; Viktor’s 27, four years older than Yuuri and no more of an old man than Yuuri is), even stressing how his hair was beginning to fall from his head in large clumps. It was definitely hard to believe then, and even more so now. 

“Viktor,” Yuuri emphasizes the overzealous man’s name, “you made us run  _ three  _ blocks.” They motion behind them--moot point really since everything looks the same to Viktor--as a sign of disbelief and fatigue, but Viktor only cocks his head to one side, then perks up when he hears Christmas music from a nearby clothing store. 

“Yuuri! Let’s go there!” Viktor drags Yuuri, from their leaning over position, over to the said clothing store with a throng of young teenagers filling the area. Yuuri can’t even protest in time when Viktor is mirthfully hauling them along from store to store and down every street. 

Harajuku is nice, but it would be nicer if Yuuri wasn’t yanked along like a ragdoll or if they had an avid interest in the district/neighborhood. Instead, Yuuri’s jet lag is settling beneath their weary bones, and they’re about two seconds away from passing out leaning against the wall.

“Yuuri, look at these cute shoes!” Viktor points at a pair of black platform shoes with a red heart pattern. Yuuri only nods, hiding a yawn behind spread out fingers. The silver haired male is gone off like a rocket in another instant, motioning quickly with his hand for Yuuri to stare at the cutest gothic lolita accessories. 

“Yuuri, there’s a cute bat winged backpack over here!” 

“Yuuri, you  _ have  _ to see this! They have the cutest lace hats!” 

“Oh! I just saw someone with the cutest bag down the street, Yuuri! Let’s go ask them where it’s from!” 

“Yuuri, I can’t read this, what does it say?” 

“Yuuri!” 

The said person sighs deeply from their mouth. They find a watching audience from bystanders casually walking their own pace who shoot him sympathetic looks. Yuuri collapses into a bench nearby; fortunately, they can spot Viktor’s long silver hair anywhere, so they’re not too worried about losing Viktor anytime soon. They slump further down into the seat, the cool air a blessing to their heated cheeks as their droopy eyelids begin slowly closing.

The jetlag is definitely kicking in at that point.  _ Maybe just…  _ They yawn widely,  _ five minutes…  _ Yuuri’s out in a second. 

There’s no much dreaming in the Japanese person’s unconscious state of mind, but they swear they can hear a panicked screech of their name fading in and out of their ears.  _ Leave me alone…  _ Yuuri groggily thinks; they can already feel their body grumpily awakening as the person next to them sighs in relief, then begins shaking them awake. Yuuri turns over, dead set on falling back asleep, but the insistent shaking feels like shoves to their body. 

“Leave me alone.” They mumble, shouldering off the hand that kept shoving at them. 

A fond, exasperated sigh washes over their ears. “Yuuri, come on. If you’re so tired, we can leave now.” Yuuri’s foggy mind clears a little, like they’re wading through a thick fog and the voice is the bright light leading out of it. Finally, they yawn hugely as they blink multiple times for the sleep to dissolve, and Yuuri finds a blurry version of Viktor hovering above them. 

They smile sleepily, hand reaching out to pat Viktor’s cheek or whatever part of the face they just touched. Viktor chuckles, low in his throat and takes Yuuri’s hand into his own to place another kiss on the back of it. Yuuri’s smile widens. They yawn.

“I’m up, I’m up.” They sleepily declare. Viktor laughs again, tipping his head to allow the smooth tenor of his voice to set free. He elegantly plops down next to Yuuri, leaving no space between their sides and brandishing a strawberry chocolate crepe from wherever he was hiding it (he wasn’t, Yuuri was just extremely out of it). 

“I bought a crepe for you.” Viktor says, matter of factly, and helps Yuuri balance the crepe in their unsteady, tired hands. Yuuri mumbles a thanks and begins to nibble at the sweet treat. They’re quiet while munching on the treat. The silence is not awkward or tense either since the duo are both watching Christmas shoppers and frequent customers and local people walk by with their own friends and plans. 

“You know,” Viktor begins, which draws Yuuri’s attention back to the man. He’s beautiful, sitting by the perfect lighting from the store behind them and the bright, out of place colors he sports are strong indicators of his foreign status. He’s surveying the area with tender eyes, flickering from a young child with their parent figure to a gaggle of friends joking and laughing as they huddle close to each other for warmth.

“If you were  _ that  _ tired, you could have just told me.” Viktor continues. He’s still not facing Yuuri, but the joy hasn’t faded from his eyes just yet. “Imagine my surprise when you’re not behind me and I’m just talking to some older, confused lady walking in the same direction as me.” 

He chortles lightly, “I was so surprised and I ended up apologizing. Then, I felt scared because I had no idea where you were. I didn’t know how to talk to anyone or ask directions, and your phone doesn’t have signal here.” Finally, his head swings over to regard Yuuri with even eyes. No malice or sorrow taints the clear pools of liquid blue in his eyes. He’s just there,  _ seeing _ . 

“I grew so worried and I felt so lost. I had no idea where you were or where I was. I was so close to asking someone else for directions or trying to find the police, but then…” His tone dips down to a whisper that had Yuuri not been so close to Viktor already, they wouldn’t have heard him. “Then, I saw you. And you were passed out on a cold bench, holding yourself for warmth.” He laughs dryly, head tipping back to stare up at the murky white sky. 

Yuuri immediately feels a tremendous weight of guilt strike their chest, then embed itself into their heart. They stare down at the half eaten crepe in their hands with a sullen expression, lips in a grim line and eyebrows scrunched together. The create the illusion of a turtle with a hunched up back and shoulders squeezed tight together. Yuuri’s leg twitches, and they want nothing more than to fidget in the cold silence dragging on between them.

“I’m sorry!” Yuuri blurts out at the same time Viktor calmly says the identical phrase. Yuuri blinks up at Viktor, startled. Viktor’s own orbs are wide beneath his starlit fringe.

“Yuuri, why are you apologizing?” Viktor asks, puzzled. 

“Eh? But, I’m the one that should have told you that I was tired sooner. I’m just a little jet lagged, I guess. And like, I shouldn’t have left your side and wandered over to this bench.” Their eyes are downcast. “I’m sorry for worrying you, Viktor. And I’m sorry for being kind of a mess,” they wetly apologize, tears springing up in the corner of their eyes.

Viktor gently combs through raven colored bangs before gingerly removing their glasses from their face. In response, Yuuri blinks back tears as they stare up at the blurry mirage of their handsome partner in confusion. Viktor sighs, fondly. With a sweep of his long finger, a tear is brushed away; it’s a morning dewdrop on Viktor’s skin, and he gently wipes it off on his cardigan.

“You don’t have to apologize, Yuuri. It’s not your fault.” Yuuri’s depression is definitely opening arguing to that, but Viktor doesn’t need to know that. “I’ll admit, I was scared, but it’s not your fault that your jet lag kicked in. It’s not your fault that your body shut down without your consent or that I ran off without you.” He thumbs at another tear and cups the cheeks of his beloved. Yuuri’s runny nose wrinkles cutely as they sniffle with eyes trained solely on Viktor.

“I’m sorry, Yuuri. I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty at all. I just want you to… Understand where I’m coming from. And for you to…” His voice fades off, replaced by a dour thin line smoothed across his lips. Viktor switches back to his happy imposter as he kisses Yuuri on the eyebrow.

“Anyway, I’m sorry for running off like that and not noticing how tired you were. Forgive me?” Something is off in Viktor, but Yuuri doesn’t bother pressing. They know from experience that pushing someone to talk about their suppressed feelings never boded well, and it wasn’t in Yuuri’s place to ask about something obviously personal in public either. 

“Yeah,” Yuuri swallows down the lump of mortification from their crying earlier. God, could they  _ not  _ be a wreck for one day, please? “Sorry, I’m kind of a huge mess.” 

Viktor shakes his head in disagreement. “You’re not a huge mess. And you shouldn’t be sorry, but…” He gifts Yuuri with a lopsided grin (which is still as beautiful as carved marble), “I know you well enough to know you’re just going to blame yourself even if I say not to.”  _ Fuck _ . Yuuri’s heart fluttered, the traitorously sappy thing.  _ He’s right.  _

Yuuri rolls their eyes, but a puny smile toys on their lips. “Yeah, yeah.” They ask in their shared joy until Viktor slumps over to carefully bury the side of his face into Yuuri’s shoulder. He whines, the warm gush of air on Yuuri’s neck fueling heat all across their body. 

“This is the worst date ever for you, isn’t it?” Viktor moans. He shifts so that his hands lightly shadowing his face so as to not smear his makeup. Yuuri shot up straight like an arrow.

_ “What?”  _ They mouthed in incredulity. 

Viktor sighs, leaning back against the bench with his eyes pointedly refusing to meet Yuuri’s. “I was so ready to sweep you off your feet, woo you! I had the perfect date planned, you know? We were going to shop around so I could buy you everything you wanted, but you didn’t react to any of the stuff I brought you or anything else!” 

“Viktor, what--”  
“And then I was going to feed you a crepe and you were going to be so excited and say, ‘wow, Viktor, this is so good and this is the best date ever!’ And there’s this art gallery we could have we to and a shrine nearby so we could have made out under a beautiful tree and--” Yuuri couldn’t help it. They burst out laughing, especially at the part where Viktor shamelessly admitted to wanting to make out with them under a tree in a sacred, holy place filled with strangers and weird vibes (which, admittedly, didn’t sound half bad). 

“Yuuri,” Viktor whines, snapping his eyes back over to Yuuri in betrayal. “You’re not supposed to laugh!” 

“I’m,” they huffed, “I’m--I’m sorry!” They continue to bellow out laughter from their lungs, unaffected by the odd stares from people around them. “I-It’s just…” More laughter streams out of their throat as tears sting their eyes. 

“That was a really thought out plan.” Yuuri pauses in their breathing long enough to cough out that particular sentence. Viktor’s thousand watt grin reintroduces itself to Yuuri at the nice comment, which is really unfortunate since they relapsed back into hearty guffaws that wracked their whole body. The Japanese person snorted an ugly sound out of their nostrils, which only sent them back to laughing purgatory. 

“How rude.” Viktor sniffs haughtily. His eyes scrunch up as his grin widens. “I have the most amazing ideas, you know.” Yuuri, who was finally over the laughing fit, snorts. 

“You wanted me to feed you a crepe, then make out with you under a tree in a  _ shrine _ , Viktor. I wouldn’t exactly call that romantic. That’s like something straight out of a rom com chick flic.” 

“Isn’t that a good thing though?” Viktor argues. “We could have made the headline for “World’s Greatest Date” in the Japanese version of  _ New York Times _ !”

“Oh yeah, and how could we forget the dashing young  _ stud _ behind the date?” Yuuri retorts. They giggle as Viktor playfully jabs at their ribs. 

“And how could we forget the beautiful, amazing man--err, person that said dashing young stud is trying to court?” Viktor’s arm scoops Yuuri into a side hug as his other hand sweeps in front of them with a flourish, like he’s trying to paint the stars with his palm. “Imagine us Yuuri: we’re so popular we become millionaires. Stories are written of our love (Yuuri rolls their eyes but their heart still aches) and news reporters surround our houses! We’re too famous!” He ends his sentence while dramatically flinging his free hand across his forehead.

“And then, just to keep them on their toes, you propose to me in a church in like--I dunno--Barcelona with golden rings! There’s a choir singing about God beside us, can you hear them, Yuuri?” Viktor cups his right ear with his hand and leans away from Yuuri’s body dramatically.

“Oh, yeah. I hear them, Viktor. But I’m too busy admiring the ring on your finger.” They’re encouraged by Viktor’s glittering eyes that beckon them to continue. “And now, every time there’s an article about the both of us, someone photoshops a huge light glare onto the rings just to emphasize that we are married and  _ in love.”  _ Yuuri grasps onto Viktor’s hands, gazing straight up into laughing eyes and feeling ridiculous and tickled and terribly besotted.

“Yes, Yuuri! And our wedding is grand and large! There’s twelve peacocks--”

Yuuri scoffs. “No, thirty. We have to make it  _ classy,  _ Viktor.” Viktor outright giggles.

“Of course! Anything for you, my love. There’s  _ thirty  _ peacocks and every gift basket for every famous guest is filled with golden roses, poop coffee--” 

“What is poop coffee?” Yuuri laughs.

“Shh, Yuuri. I’m not done. There’s a live puppy with a diamond studded collar inside, and only the first one thousand baskets have keys belonging to a brand new ferrari.” Viktor mimes opening up an invisible bag and securing a ring of jingling keys in his hold. With a cheeky smile, he rattles the “keys” between tight pinched fingers before dramatically tossing them back into the invisible bag.

“There will be a band at every corner of the wedding--which is set in a private island that we own, by the way--and four hundred five star chefs cooking for this  _ grand  _ buffet. The wedding cake is bigger than  _ that  _ Christmas tree!” Here, Viktor points excitedly at the massive hunk of tree that spanned over the rooftops of nearby buildings and reached up towards the sky. 

“Viktor, oh my god.” Yuuri nudges their shoulder against Viktor’s. “You’re ridiculous.” They can’t stop the affection plaguing their voice in a sugary sweet baritone.

“No, I’m trying to show you a whole new world, Yuuri! Can’t you imagine the amazing wedding we’ll have? Taylor Swift will be there!” 

“Not convinced.” 

“Uh, Nicholas Cage?” 

“...I’m listening.” Viktor barks out a rough chuckle. Yuuri smiles, fixing their bangs to leave them out of their eyes as they languidly stretch their sore muscles. “Well, we can continue staying here or we could continue the date?” 

Viktor’s eyes twinkled with the Christmas tree lights. “You read my mind,  _ love.”  _

“Yeah, yeah. Well, I’m going to finish this crepe first and then we can--why are you staring at me like that?” Yuuri rose a thick eyebrow at Viktor’s suddenly thoughtful face. A lightbulb flashed over the silver haired man’s head as he leaned forward, coy smirk on his face and a flutter of his long pale eyelashes.

_ “Yuuri,”  _ Viktor purrs, scooting closer so that their sides are meshed into one and their knees bang together. “You  _ could  _ help me with my brilliant date plan.” Realization dawns on Yuuri’s visage as they glance down at the sad looking, half eaten crepe that was probably soggy.

“Viktor, no.” Yuuri weakly protested, but Viktor  _ knew  _ Yuuri’s weakness and  _ flaunted it  _ right in front of Yuuri’s face. Yuuri crossed their arms, trying hard to not succumb to successful puppy eyes and a melancholic puppy pout so damaging that Yuuri knew he was ruined for all eternity. 

“Fine. The crepe was getting soggy anyway.” Yuuri relents with a shrug. Viktor visibly perks up; if he had actual puppy ears--which wouldn’t astound Yuuri too much--they would perk up off his head from its previous sad position.

“Thanks, Yuuri,” Viktor sings, smooching them on the cheek with a loud  _ smack _ , “You’re the best, love.” Yuuri rolls their eyes (for the hundredth time) before holding the crepe up for Viktor to take a bite out of. Viktor happily munches on the offered sweet with a saccharine smile lighting up his face. Yuuri watches, laughing inwardly to themselves as a streak of chocolate appears on the side of Viktor’s mouth. He’s by no means a messy eater, but Viktor was still wolfing down the food at the same pace he was inhaling breakfast the same morning--in short, Viktor kind of ate like a little kid.

The older male smacked his lips together when he was finished with the meal, tongue swiping over his mouth to lick up the rest of the chocolate. Unfortunately, Viktor just so happened to miss the dash of chocolate on the corner of his mouth. 

Yuuri clicks their tongue as their eyes focus in on the light brown against pale skin. With a swipe of their thumb, the brown eyed person wiped off the excess chocolate. They hummed, unconsciously licking the chocolate off their thumb without thinking. Their chocolate orbs strayed back over to Viktor’s face, that had a new streak of color: pink.

“What?” Yuuri is the one to tilt their head to one side this time, and Viktor clearly melts into a pile of hot goo. He groans, pink spreading to his ears as he carefully face palms.

“Viktor, what?” Yuuri demands, but is only met with another pained groan. After a while, they shrug, feeling a little more alert and less drowsy from their short nap and sugary treat. “Well, I guess I’m leaving without you then.” They slowly rise up from their seat and they grin behind their sleeve once Viktor shoots up like soda after the can’s been shaken. 

“Yuuri,” Viktor whines once he realizes he’s been made a fool of. Yuuri stands up to their full height, stretching their arms above their head and groaning when their shoulder pop. They fix mischievous eyes on Viktor, but otherwise they don’t comment. 

“Oh, I know a fun place we can go! Um, if you want though.” Yuuri suggests. The art gallery and shrine sounded lovely, but Yuuri didn’t think they could stay awake for long in both serene, quiet places. 

“That sounds like fun! Where are we going?” Viktor easily agrees, which is easy enough for Yuuri. Yuuri smiles apologetically. 

“We can go to the shrine and art gallery another day, though. I just don’t think I’ll like stay awake while in those two places.” They reveal; Viktor’s mouth forms into a soft “o” shape in comprehension, and he nods enthusiastically as Yuuri guides Viktor to a different location not too far away from where they currently are. The place is also decently close to the train station, which they needed to return to at four pm. 

“Uh, I hope you like arcades.” Yuuri lamely says as they arrive in front of the Taito Station Shibuya Arcade. There’s more a crowd than usual since teenagers and people attending school have winter break and tourists from around the world huddle around luminous screens, bright claw machines/ufo catcher games, and highlighted purikura booths. There were more games, no doubt, but Yuuri preferred to stick to the arduous ufo catcher games or the purikura booths--they weren’t too talented with the rest of the games anyway.

“Whoa.” Viktor’s starry eyes widen at all of the diverse games he could chose from: racing games, games involving certain animes (like Gundam), music games, and more. Compared to other arcades, there weren’t as many options to choose from, but the closest arcade (with better ratings than the others) to the station was this one in particular. 

“There’s other arcades too, but this one was the closest. I mean, if you wanted to, uh, go to other ones with more games, that’s fine too. Actually, that sounds good, so why don’t we like go--” 

Viktor squeezes Yuuri’s hand. For a split second, Yuuri almost forgot their hands were still entwined. “It’s okay, Yuuri.” He soothes, thumb lightly stroking over the younger’s. “We can go to the other arcades another day. Let’s try to enjoy ourselves here, okay?” His straightforward, encouraging words calm Yuuri’s nerves a bit, and they silently nod. 

Viktor’s answering smile could light up Tokyo for the rest of time.

First, Viktor heads straight towards a music game that involved drums and beating them with the music. He carves his way through the floor flawlessly, people parting to him like he’s Moses and the rest of them are the Red Sea. Most of the gamers gawk at the alluring siren that is Viktor, and Yuuri can honestly relate. However, because  _ they’re  _ the one Viktor’s hand is grasping and because  _ they’re  _ the one Viktor truly looks at, Yuuri is more satisfied than they like to admit.

Yuuri explains the mechanics and rules of the game; they’re even dragged into a game against Viktor as they beat at the drums in front of them until Viktor concedes defeat once the beat is banging against their skulls and the movements grow more and more complicated. Yuuri smiles as they head to a racing car game next, both of them grinning at each other as the competition flares. 

“Loser has to kiss the winner!” Viktor proclaims, swerving dangerously with his wheel and performing a crazy 360 that would be illegal if it were not a game. Yuuri just guffaws, sweat building from the watching bystanders and people waiting behind them for a turn. 

“That’s hardly a loss, Viktor! You just want to kiss me!” Yuuri accuses with no bite. Viktor laughs as his foot smashes down onto the gas pedal and his car speeds past Yuuri’s. He sticks his tongue out at the mock affronted Yuuri.

“Who says I’m going to be the loser?” Viktor challenges, and the heat of his voice, the croon of his tone, is enough to spark something fiery in Yuuri’s soul as they expertly careen past a corner and purposefully smashes into the side of Viktor’s shiny pink sports car.

“Whoops.” Yuuri drawls, grinning at Viktor’s scandalized gasp and sudden Russian curse. Yuuri’s dark moss green car pulls up to second place while Viktor’s car lags back to sixth. There are two other competitors in the seats adjacent to Viktor (with Yuuri on the outermost seat and Viktor in the middle) with one of them being the current holder of first place, but Yuuri is too exhilarated to care. They beat Viktor by half a second, speeding up at a corner and slowing down at the last minute to drift dangerously close to the wall and past the finish line.

“I win!” Yuuri whoops, throwing their hands in the air. “So now I guess you have to ki--” Their sentence is swallowed up by a hot pair of lips descending on their own, and a low moan rips from their throat as Viktor’s mouth sensually moves against their own in a tight frenzy. Someone in the back shrilly gasps while five fuckboys whoop and holler at the hot action.

Viktor separates from Yuuri with a swipe of his tongue lapping at their lips, eyes narrowed to a seductive half mast that’s only enhanced by his eyeliner. Yuuri’s heart pounds dangerously loud up their neck. They gulp, Viktor’s eyes travelling to watch them swallow.

“We’re finishing this later.” Viktor winks with a flirt in his voice. Yuuri licks their lips a little too enthusiastically before hastily removing their butt from the seat and blindly following after Viktor. As Yuuri learns in the next two minutes,  _ later  _ is vague enough to mean  _ now,  _ and they’re all too happily smooshed in the secluded purikura booth with Viktor on top of them as they vigorously make out like horny teenagers. 

At least part of Viktor’s plan came true. 

And the two were nearly busted too. One unfortunate victim that happened upon their feverish making out stuttered so badly that they brought over their friends as they nearly passed out on the floor. One employee began walking towards the duo and in Yuuri’s panic, they ended up slipping  _ at least  _ two thousand yen into the machine, which allowed them five rounds of pictures. 

It didn’t help that Viktor took entirely too much time on decorating their photos with cutesy stickers, so they ended up in that booth for another hour or so (luckily there was two other purikura booths). Yuuri couldn’t deny the other male either since every time they even attempted to stare at Viktor, their eyes would drift to his  _ very  _ pink lips and Yuuri would bite their lip and avoid Viktor’s all knowing gaze.

After receiving like fifteen sheets filled with cutesy photos, Viktor joyfully skips over to one of the ufo catching games (aka the dreaded, money eating claw machine) while Yuuri stepped out of the booth a changed person. They avoid casting their gaze off of the ground, feeling more and more like a prison inmate on the walk to deathrow. Viktor is a shameless, possibly oblivious being, as Yuuri’s come to discover, which is why Viktor smothers Yuuri into another hug and pecks at their cheek.

“Alright, Yuuri! Stand by and watch me win you something! What do you want? This cute dog plushie? Or maybe that  _ Hello Kitty  _ one over there? Ooh, Yuuri! Look at this one!” Viktor is off again, dashing over to an occupied machine with another two people attempting to catch a Rilakkuma shaped pillow. Yuuri gasps as they rush over to fetch Viktor. They shoot an apologetic look to the duo, who luckily fixes them with a kind smile. 

Yuuri is not sure whether the culprit of their sudden enervation is their jet lag or Viktor’s boundless energy. Probably both. 

“I’m fine with anything, Viktor. They’re all really cute.” And Yuuri’s not wrong. They  _ do  _ think that all of the plushies and pillows are adorable, but nothing can compare to their real dog so they don’t really care. Now, if there was a  _ poodle  _ plushie, on the other hand… 

Viktor pouts. “Are you sure?” 

Yuuri sighs, a bad feeling creeping up on them. “I’m sure, Viktor. You don’t have to get me anything, you know.” They assure the male, but Viktor is no longer paying attention to them anymore. No, the silver haired man is plotting a scheme of sorts to woo Yuuri’s heart, and whether known or accepted by Yuuri, the Japanese person just  _ knew  _ that something overdramatic and  _ so  _ Viktor was about to occur. 

“Then I’ll just get you  _ everything!”  _ Viktor announces. He strikes a heroic pose for a brief second before slipping in 100 yen into the slot they were standing in front of. Yuuri’s face morphs into something straight out of a horror film. 

“Viktor,  _ no.”  _ But Viktor doesn’t budge. He sticks his tongue out in concentration, and because Yuuri knows they’re gonna be there for a long, long while, they whip out their phone and begins snapping photos of the other man on both their camera and snapchat. 

_ This man is so extra,  _ Yuuri types on the photo before uploading it onto their story. They pocket their phone at the sound of Viktor’s irritated groan and Yuuri nearly whips the device back out at the utterly frustrated face Viktor is making. 

“I don’t get it, Yuuri. I’m usually so good at these games!” Viktor grouses. He’s probably about three seconds away from yanking his weave off (curse Phichit for that term), so Yuuri placates the other with a careful pat on his shoulder and a kiss on the man’s upper arm. Viktor’s eyes soften, which is basically mission accomplished. Could they go home now?  
“These ufo catcher games aren’t like the ones in America, Viktor.” Yuuri explains matter of factly. “They’re more complicated. Sometimes you have to bounce the item past these white bar things and sometimes you have to use the claw to push or pull the item into the hole.” 

Viktor shakes his head and replies, “I don’t understand,” to which Yuuri sighs longsufferingly and places their hand on top of Viktor’s.  

“You’re not going to win, Viktor.” Yuuri slowly clarifies. “Listen, it’s not that easy, so maybe we--Viktor, put your money  _ away!”  _ Yuuri clutches tighter onto Viktor’s hand, which is clutching onto his wallet and already slipping out another five 100 yen coins.

“It’s okay, Yuuri! I know I’ll get it this time! Fourteenth time’s the charm!” Viktor struggles against Yuuri’s iron gasp, a determined frown on his face that worries Yuuri.

“Viktor, it’s just a game! You could literally like buy the same plush for less somewhere else! It’s not worth it!” Yuuri tries to beat some sense into Viktor’s imbecilic determination with their words, but to no avail. If anything, that seems to spur Viktor on even more as he continuously pops in a 100 yen coin and fails epically at the game. 

Yuuri allows that to happen ten more times--in which they had initially, fruitlessly hoped that Viktor would finally give up after the fifth time--before they snatch Viktor’s wallet away while the other is distracted in maneuvering the claw and stuffs it in their pocket.

“Yuuri,” Viktor pleads, but Yuuri is not about to stand by and watch Viktor feed that greedy money hungry bullshit with another easy $20 while Yuuri can barely pay for their rent. The raven haired person quirks a stony brow as a promise of future pain and a ban from kisses as they cross their arms. Viktor’s shoulders sag down and he tries (keyword: tries) to sway Yuuri with the same old puppy act, but Yuuri does  _ not  _ fuck around with money. 

“Good boy.” Yuuri praises, patting Viktor on the head (and stretching on their toes to do so) because they’re not  _ completely  _ unaffected by Viktor’s convincing puppy eyes. Viktor brightens a little at that, but he’s still a little too deflated and sulky as he longing gazes at the shiba inu plush that he’s been fighting with the machine for. 

Yuuri sighs, hopes that they won’t be this goddamn whipped in the future (unlikely), and cleanly plucks out a 100 yen coin from their own jean pocket. They gently nudge Viktor to the side, blinking blankly at Viktor’s curious purse of lips as they insert another 100 yen coin into hell. 

“Yuuri, you’re--” Yuuri shushes him. They scrutinize the different toys in the machine, the positions the toys are in, the way the claw is located, and every single detail they can unveil so that they can triumphantly beat the game. It’s a tense, solid thirty seconds as Yuuri breathes in and out. Viktor does not breath a single word. Yuuri doesn’t think he even breathes.

The claw shoots out, wrapping around the pudgy body of a black shiba inu with an adorable red bandana across its neck. The puppy’s face is a permanent smiley face, but its beady black eyes are judging Yuuri as sweat slicks the back of their neck. The claw slowly lifts up the plushie, the rattling movements of the claw nearly causing the shiba inu to slip out and back onto the other shiba inus (Yuuri’s heart lurches and beside them, Viktor gasps).

Yuuri’s eyes bore holes into the gleaming machine; the blinding white lights taunted them mercilessly, twinkling with a smug gleam as the other shiba inu plushies snickered in their face. The claw sluggishly drew the toy closer and closer to the hole, where Yuuri’s awaiting hands twitched to catch. It didn’t help that the damn thing jerked spastically as it was making it’s leisurely trip over to the hole to deposit the toy (if it would anyway). Yuuri’s breath caught. 

_ Clang!  _

The toy drops down, down, down. Yuuri’s positive they’ve passed out from short breath intake. To their left, Viktor hovers closer to the machine, peering down at the shiba inu in swelling disbelief. The blue eyed man breaks the silence first, which is less of an eye-opener than what Yuuri is currently experiencing.

The shiba inu’s smile is probably waning as it realizes where it is. Yuuri doesn’t give a damn. They grin with wild abandon, practically tearing the machine apart to retrieve the toy with shaking fingers and cloudy eyes. When they manage to wrangle it out of the stubborn machine (which totally tried to snap off Yuuri’s fingers), the black shiba inu is gloriously soft and pleasantly warm.

“You did it, Yuuri!” Viktor crows. His hands weave around Yuuri’s waist to settle comfortably on their hips. Yuuri is too thrilled to really give a shit at the moment. They cuddle the adorable prize in their arms, squeezing it like Viktor is squashing them in a warm hug. 

“I did do it.” Yuuri says in awed realization.  _ “I  _ did it.” Yuuri swings their head over to Viktor and nearly caused the other male to fall from their vigorous shaking. 

“Viktor, I did it! I did it! I actually did it!” Yuuri jumps up and down in their spot. They chortle euphorically, feeling dizzy from the previous adrenaline rush and dumbfounded by their success. Their eyes are crescents, hidden by stretched cheeks and a vivid syrup of brown, like a hot mocha. Viktor’s hands squeeze their hips with a dazzling, radiant smile etched on his lips--they match.

“You did!” He praises while nuzzling Yuuri’s nose with his own. “You really did.” A dreamy sigh lines his words as he smiles down at Yuuri’s blissful face--the latter shut their eyes in glee, unaware of the clear adoration swirling, shining like miniature marbles. 

When their eyes reopen with the last vestiges of laughter dying away, Yuuri is kindly met with the sight of Viktor beaming down at them. Viktor looks, for lack of better wording,  _ smitten _ . And Yuuri doesn’t have a single clue of what to do when they’re faced with something so unfamiliar, so unprecedented, so  _ thrilling.  _

Their eyes shoot down to the floor; they feel shy all of the sudden, like the new kid introducing themselves in front of the whole class after a long move. Yuuri’s heart strikes blow after blow to their bruised ribcage--but it’s fine, really--they can’t feel a thing--and Yuuri’s ribcage is blossoming with pure gardenias the hue of fallen snow and the light dancing in Viktor’s hair. 

Yuuri passes the shiba inu doll over to Viktor, pressing the soft fur of the plush into Viktor’ chest. They smile slightly, “This is for you.” 

Viktor’s hands are careful. He caresses the fur of the shiba inu, dainty fingers gingerly embracing the toy. His eyes scrunch up as he regards Yuuri with unadulterated joy, and Viktor’s hand slides down Yuuri’s face with the barest touch. His fingers sear warmth down the other’s skin; Yuuri sighs, abandons their doubts (for the time being), and intertwines Viktor’s hand with their own. 

Maybe it’s the romantic Christmas atmosphere. Maybe it’s the white lights cascading over their forms or the other couples unabashedly walking hand in hand down the street. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s the combined heat in their palms and the endearing crinkles near Viktor’s eyes and the thump, thump, thump of Yuuri’s beating heart that feels a lot like love.

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


Two hours later, the two decide to start heading back. Dinner would be ready in another hour and a half, and Yuuri was beginning to feel the strain of exhaustion weighing their eyelids down. Viktor simply concurs by allowing himself to be ushered back in time for the next train (and the next) while he casually swings their arms back and forth. The weather isn’t too chilly (especially compared to Detroit’s winters), just a tad colder in Tokyo than in Hasetsu. 

Viktor falls asleep halfway back to the inn. He snoozes comfortably on Yuuri’s shoulder while Yuuri presses their head against the side of the train’s wall with a frown marring their face. Fortunately, they’re able to wake up before their stop, and Yuuri groggily slaps Viktor awake--the two zombie walk to their next train and the cycle repeats. When they’re finally back in Hasetsu, Viktor is marginally more awake than Yuuri is, and he hums to himself as they trek two blocks back to Yutopia.

Yuuri nearly passes out when they arrive to their bedroom to charge their phone. They’re half tempted to curl up under the covers but the idea of supporting their odd sleeping schedule and seeming rude when the Nishigori family arrives in the next hour are enough reasons for them to stay up. However, just because Yuuri’s head protests sleep doesn’t mean their body does too. In an act of desperation, Yuuri logs onto skype to see if anyone else is available (even if it’s like 5 am over there. 

Phichit’s status is always on invisible, as the male revealed later, since he’s kind of a snake. Guang Hong and Leo are both offline and Yuuri cancels out Otabek instantly. Just because you cook a month of meals for someone doesn’t mean you’re automatically best buds. 

That only leaves the young Yuri, who’s green online status mocks Yuuri’s tired eyes. They mentally shrug. Yuri  _ did  _ say they should talk later, so might as well get that over with now, while Viktor is distracted by their parents and no one else is around to hear their conversation. Fortunately, Yuri is awake for some ungodly reason, so Yuuri snags their headphones off of their desk and sits back on two propped up pillows for the angsty, possibly angry chat about to ensue. 

“Hello?” Yuuri asks as soon as the call connects. Yuri shuffles in his seat, presumably in his bed as well, before answering. The blond is pretty blurry in the small screen of Yuuri’s phone, but Yuuri can recognize that threatening scowl anywhere. They smile.

_ “What up, loser.”  _ Yuri lazily greets. He’s laying on his stomach while balancing the phone in front of him; one hand is petting his cat (with the most absurd name ever, but Yuuri isn’t one to judge) while the other is digging into an opened bag of cheetos. 

Yuuri’s grin widens. “Nothing much. Just got back from a date with your cousin, made out with him, the usual.” Yuri’s, sickened face forces a snort of ugly laughter from Yuuri’s throat. The younger man looks so physically  _ pained  _ that Yuuri would have advised for the other to go to the hospital; however, they’re fatigued, not suicidal, and Yuri’s screams could probably kill their headphones. 

_ “You’re a disgusting piece of shit, ya know that?”  _ Yuri comments, still a bit queasy in the face.  _ “I’m going out for breakfast with Beka in like two hours and I don’t need any mentally scarring visuals, thanks, asshole.”  _ Yuri mimes retching before childishly sticking out his tongue. Yuuri nonchalantly shrugs, but a broad upturn of their lips gives them away. 

“Wait, why are you still up? Isn’t it like, five or so over there?” 

Yuri is the one to shrug this time.  _ “Ye. I pulled an all nighter to watch American Horror Story.” _ Honestly relatable. Yuuri squinted as they brought the phone closer to their face.  _ “Uh, what the fuck are you doing?”  _ They’re able to spot dark circles underneath Yuri’s eyes with ease, and a chiding frown blooms on their visage.

“Yuri, when was the last time you slept?” They inquire. Yuri’s cat like orbs immediately dart across the room in guilt. “Yuri.” The older person repeats the question: “When was the last time you had a decent night’s sleep?” 

_ “Calm down, old man.”  _

“Not a man.” 

_ “Person.”  _ Yuri falters,  _ “Is grandpa okay to use? Or should I call you grandren? Grandrenny?” _

“Grandpa is chill, I guess. Now stop avoiding the question. When did you last sleep, young man?” Yuuri impatiently asks while tapping their finger against the side of their phone. Yuri sighs as answer and he rolls over onto his back to glare up at the ceiling. 

_ “Two days ago.”  _ He mumbles under his breath in hopes of Yuuri not being able to catch the words. Unfortunately, the blond is dealing with desirable parent figure Yuuri, who thrives on dad puns, overcaring, and the ability to smell bullshit and trouble a mile away--though the latter was only drilled into Yuuri because of a certain danger attracting Thai roommate. 

_ “TWO  _ DAYS?!” Yuuri exclaims as they nearly leap off the bed. The phone jostles in their loosened grip, but they tighten their fingers around the device before it’s hurled to the floor. The blond cringes, judging by the jerk of their milky locks and how the other man promptly rolls over to fix narrowed orbs on Yuuri. Yuuri responds in kind with their own harsh glower, which is  _ very  _ effective when the younger Yuri refuses to meet their eyes.

_ “‘S not a big deal. It’s winter break so why’s that such a problem?”  _ The momentum of Yuri’s words steepens as more fire ignites his tone.  _ “Why is suddenly a big deal when I do it, but not when you or Phichit or whatever other college fucker does it?! That’s not goddamn fair and you know it.”  _ He concludes with an angry huff. Yuri’s not wrong, and a part of Yuuri  _ is  _ regretful for overreacting, but they’re not going to budge much. It was one thing if  _ they  _ practiced unhealthy self health and habits, but another entirely if their  _ friends  _ did. 

“I will fight you again.” Yuuri swears, and they  _ mean  _ business, “It’s fine for college students because we’re  _ older;  _ our brains kind of stop developing at like twenty, and yeah, ideally twenty five is the age when you can stop like worrying about your developing brain, but still! You’re only  _ sixteen _ , Yuri. You’re still young and your eyesight could worsen to mine and you’ll have these  _ awful  _ habits and--why are you staring at me like that?” Yuri’s eyebrow is arched straight up to his hairline. He’s not necessarily exuding smug vibes, but the younger isn’t entirely too put off by the lecture either. 

_ “I was honestly hoping you would learn a lesson from your own goddamn words, but it looks like I have to spell it out for you, dumbass.”  _ Yuri points aggressively (if you can even do that, but somehow Yuri is able to execute it well) at the camera.  _ “Shouldn’t you be--I dunno--applying that same logic to yourself?”  _

Yuuri rolls their eyes because  _ god,  _ did Phichit pull  _ that one  _ line on them all the goddamn time. “Listen. I  _ know  _ how to be healthy and I  _ know  _ that I have a problem and I’m a stupid mess.” 

_ “Not stupid,”  _ Yuri mumbles under his breath. Yuuri catches it anyway and he’s torn between being proudly fond like a doting parent or a beaming friend. 

“But just because I know all of this  _ shit _ doesn’t mean that I’m going to apply it to myself because of my self-deprecation and internalized self-hatred. Also, I care more about my friends and my family and Vicchan more than myself, so.” And  _ yes,  _ Yuuri has that memorized because of how often Phichit or their other friends or their family (bless them all) worry over their toxic coping mechanisms. 

_ “Uh, I honestly have no idea how to respond to that.”  _ Yuri admits because he’s a soft boy (dubbed by Phichit) and is as awkward as Yuuri at comforting people.  _ “You’re a weird person, katsudon.”  _

“Thanks.” They drily reply. Silence reigns over them for another twenty seconds before Yuri grumpily pipes up again--but not after shovelling a handful of cheetos into his mouth. 

_ “Now tell me what’s been going on with my fucking dumbass cousin.”  _ And Yuuri does. They explain everything, careful not to go  _ too  _ into detail about the accidental make out in the photo booth or how grossly influenced they are by Viktor’s, well, everything. As expected, right as Yuuri began speaking of the date, the words began tumbling faster and faster out of their mouth until the calm summary turned into a lively rant about Viktor’s  _ gorgeous  _ eyes and  _ breathtaking  _ smile. Yuri grimaced at those parts but otherwise didn’t breath a single word until Yuuri was partially done. 

“And I don’t know what I’m doing--I mean, I never really, like, know what I’m doing? Even more so because this is one of my first serious--kind of? I dunno, I still  _ have  _ to get around to talking with Viktor about what we are, and like whether he’s willing to go serious with me. There’s gotta be a different word for that.” Yuuri mutters when they’re done, breathless, and confused. Yuri is surprisingly quiet despite all of the garbage from Yuuri’s mouth, and the older person bites their lip as Yuri carefully chews on another cheeto.

He swallows loudly before chiming in.  _ “Viktor’s stupid,”  _ is all he says, and Yuuri’s anxious face morphs into a deadpan. 

“Wow, thanks. Amazing input.” 

Yuri rolls his eyes.  _ “I mean he’s just dumb and he doesn’t think about other’s feelings most of the time. He’s selfish, breaks his promises, and forgets things easily. You’re way out of his league.”  _ He abruptly points a cheesy finger at Yuuri, glaring accusingly.  _ “And I don’t mean that he’s better than you and you’re not good enough for him or whatever cheesy love bullshit people say. Katsudon, you’re fucking out of his league because you’re much better than him.”  _

He pauses, warily eyeing the growing grin on Yuuri’s face.  _ “And don’t read too much into that. I still hate you for fighting me over a fucking jar of strawberry jam. Go suck a bag of dicks.”  _

“Noted.” Yuuri simply responds; they know Yuri needs to keep up his angsty, edgy, emo appearance for whatever reason, so they bite their tongue. 

Yuri’s eyes narrow to slits.  _ “Erase whatever dumb thought you’re thinking, asshole. I was forced to learn ballet when I was younger because of my stupid mother so I can easily break all of your front teeth doing a arabesque.”  _

“Uh, I’m pretty sure I would have to be willingly standing behind you for that to work.” Yuuri reasons. Yuri just huffs.

_ “Fine, I’ll do a pirouette around you until you’re facing my back then kick you with a arabesque.”  _

“Wouldn’t a  _ grand battement  _ be easier? Less complicated and you can just kick me in the teeth with one move.” 

_ “Shut up. I forgot most of the ballet shit I did when I was like six. Mainly because I thought it was fucking useless. Then how do you know ballet?”  _

“Used to do it when I was younger.” Yuuri shrugs. “I dunno, it helped me lose weight and stuff, but I stopped when I moved to Detroit. I practice it now and again. Now can you stop threatening me and go back to talking about Viktor? You’re just listing all the reasons why my crush on him is just some horrible mistake.” They glance to their room door, just in case someone’s outside lurking and can hear every last one of their words. 

_ “It really is.”  _ Yuri angrily breathes air out of his nose at Yuuri’s unimpressed (yet slightly anxious) look.  _ “Viktor’s got his own problems. He’ll probably tell you shit about his past life. Trust me when I say he’s plenty serious about you. Actually, you should break up with him right now because if I have to hear another sappy as fuck word about your ‘adorable smile’ and ‘pretty brown eyes’ I think I’ll stab myself in the eye with a butter knife.”  _

“He really said that? About  _ me?”  _ Yuuri breathes, in wonder, amazement coloring their tone as vivid as a box of pastels. A disgusted noise accompanied with an equally repulsed sneer of his lip wrangles out of the blond Russian. Yuuri is too enchanted and dizzy with the revelations to notice. They smiled stupidly down at their lap, a hazy pink sleeping on the autumn warmth of their cheeks.

_ “Fuck that. You’re both disgusting and you deserve each other.”  _ Yuuri’s smile blinds the other man with the sheer honesty and happiness radiating from it. The Japanese person is so moonstruck, so ensorcelled and relieved that someone close to Viktor (and Yuuri) is advocating for the both of them and reassuring Yuuri (at least a little) that what is currently doing is  _ not  _ a mistake. 

This won’t end in heartbreak.  _ They  _ won’t be heartbroken. Or at the very least, there’s hope for Yuuri and Viktor, and they just needed to productively communicate and Yuuri would hopefully have a boyfriend by the incoming year. 

_ What about his job?  _ Their fretful mind hisses at Yuuri, clouding their mind with uncertain gray. Yuuri swats at it, too over the moon to clearly think.  _ We’ll talk about it. We’ll figure this out.  _ They answer in determination. Unfortunately, the anxiety creeps closer, clad in a cloak of bright colors and an undertone of gray. The anxiety is onerous to look directly at (but more in an annoying way) with its overly glowing form, like the sun, and the ugly grays washing away the rest of their brief joy. 

_ But what about if he says ‘no’? And even if he says ‘yes’, you’ll still need to give him time to find a new job, one that might not even pay him as much as his old one. Aren’t you being unreasonable? Aren’t you being too sensitive to force this man to abandon his old job just because you feel like he’s going to cheat on you? Viktor’s not that kind of person. You know that. But you also know he’s way out of your league anyway.  _ Their anxiety cackles, smacking all of Yuuri’s insecurities straight into their gut. 

A faint ringing noise blocks outside sounds from entering their ears like cottons swabs filling their ears to the brim; the shadows on the wall leap out with rapid snickers and a wolfish grin devouring their faces; Yuuri’s body flushes with hasty adrenaline while their eyes cloud over; and in the midst of it all, the laughing, sneering form of anxiety wraps a tight arm around their neck like a noose as the whispers erupt in volume until Yuuri is left suffocating. 

_ Breath.  _ A voice that sounds like a younger Phichit urges.  _ Breath, Yuuri. Just count with me to five.  _

_ One.  _ Breathe.

_ You’re not worthy of him!  _ The anxiety maliciously crows.

_ Two.  _

_ He will leave you!  _

_ Three. Keep breathing. _

_ Don’t open up to him! _

_ Four.  _

_ You’ll just be heartbroken!  _

_ Five.  _

Yuuri holds their breath for four seconds, then exhales for five. The gray fog wanes, shimmering with cool blue as Yuuri blinks and regains their sight once more. They breathe in for five seconds, holds it for four, and breathes out in five. Yuuri repeats and repeats and repeats until they’re able to quell the anxiety to a low simmer instead a high boil, and the room no longer quakes with their sight. 

_ “--uuri! Goddammit, what’s going on?! Yuuri, are you okay?!”  _ Yuri’s tiny voice screams from the phone. Yuuri glances down, where their phone is facing up towards the ceiling and their headphones are abandoned to the side of the bed. There’s no perception of time in a mini mental meltdown, so Yuuri can only safely assume that a lengthy amount of time passed by before the younger Yuri became worried. 

They can barely feel their fingers, but they slowly grasp onto the earbuds and press them into their ears. Yuri’s screeching is like their ears are being grated off with a cheese grater, so they reduce the volume with a languid intake of air. 

“Sorry,” even to the raven haired person, they sound foreign to themselves, “I was dissociating a little and like, my anxiety hit.” Breathing in and out helps. Staring up at the ceiling while their phone clicks off to black helps. 

_ “Goddammit.”  _ Yuri sniffles; the rustle of clothing is probably the male wiping away snot from his face.  _ “You scared the fuck out of me, asshole.”  _

“Sorry, sorry.” They sound far away. “I just--I just get…” The white patterns of the ceiling distracts them before they can finish their sentence. It swirls in Yuuri’s vision like the dark blue strokes in the Starry Night painting. The ringing in their ears have subsided (for now), but the ghost of it haunts their hearing. 

Yuri sighs, sounding drained, but relieved.  _ “Look, I get it. I’m like that sometimes too. I think that’s enough emotions for me today. I need to go. Look, katsudon. Just sit down and fucking listen.”  _

“But I’m lying down?” 

_ “Whatever. Just listen. I’m not usually for that sappy, gross shit, so don’t expect me to say this bullshit again.”  _ He inhales deeply, words flying out at his exhale.  _ “It’s going to be okay. And yeah, a lot of fuckers say it and don’t mean it or they just say it ‘cause they don’t know what’s going on in your life, but I’m being serious. Even if Viktor dumps you or whatever, it’s going to be okay. You have Phichit and your other friends and honestly, romance is overrated anyways.”  _

Yuuri nods before realizing Yuri can’t see them. “Okay.” The fog is fully lifted from their form, leaving behind a sagging body that presses gratefully into the sheets with a tired sigh. Yuuri strongly breathes in. When they breath out again, eyes fluttering back open, the ringing has completely halted. It’s just peacefully quiet, just Hasetsu that Yuuri recognizes and loves.

_ “And you have me.”  _ Yuri quietly adds. There’s no ridicule or fury in his voice, but the small quiver in his tone exposes his vulnerability. A surge of affection expands from Yuuri’s lungs as a faint chuckle dances from their lips. 

“I know. I really am grateful to have you as my friend, Yuri. You’re definitely a lot smarter than I was when I was sixteen.” 

Yuri snorts.  _ “Damn right I am. I’m going to go eat waffles until I pass out. Bye.”  _

“Bye, Yuri. I’ll text you later if you want.” The other male only grunts as affirmation before the line cuts off and the two resounding beeps from the ended call signifies his exit. Yuuri smiles, wiping away sweat from their brow while staring up at the ceiling. 

_ I’m here. I’m valid. I have my friends and family.  _ Yuuri cycles through positive comments--as they were advised to do by an old psychologist and a sixteen year old Phichit--and they rifle through happy, comforting thoughts that soothes the heat of their body like a minty balm. 

The irregular anxious thought would dart across their mind like a shooting star now and again, but Yuuri powerfully reinforced their breathing techniques and focused on the positives in their life. They still imagined the first date with Viktor and that easing feeling they felt whenever standing next to Viktor.  _ I guess he’s now a constant in my life,  _ Yuuri muses with a shiver. 

They don’t know how long they stay in the same position: gazing up at the concealed sky with headphones still in their ears. But it must have been a decent duration of time since they hear a clamoring of messy steps and a familiar clack of claws on wooden floor travel up the stairs in record time. Yuuri only barely cranes their neck to the side to stare at the door before a loud cry of “Yuuri!” and a just as enthusiastic  _ woof!  _ Greets the other. 

“Yuuri! Your dog is so cute!” Viktor cheerily exclaims. Vicchan woofs again in agreement, panting heavily from most likely playing with Viktor once he arrived and pawing at Viktor’s leg with the cutest puppy eyes (or the  _ original ones,  _ as Yuuri would call it). Viktor squeals. He actually squeals while picking up Vicchan with a firm, yet gentle grasp and nuzzling his face into Vicchan’s soft, curly fur. 

“I love him! He’s so adorable! And I--oh no. I didn’t wake you up from a nap, did I?” Viktor questions in ncern as he finally notices the other’s disheveled appearance and lying down position. Yuuri shifts, bones creaking and popping in their old person body, and crookedly smiles at the older man. They position into a sitting up pose, grinning when Vicchan pants harder and attempts to wiggle out of Viktor’s hands. 

“It’s fine. I was just talking to one of my friends on skype.” Yuuri explains in amusement as Viktor presses another quick peck on Vicchan’s head before setting him back down to the ground. Once he’s no longer airborne, the tiny pup launches straight towards Yuuri with a rapidly wagging stubby tail and a lolling tongue that licks the residues of salty tears off of Yuuri’s pink cheeks.

Yuuri giggles, their yearning from missing their favorite pet evaporating into thin air. They plant kisses wherever they can reach on Vicchan’s petite body and laughs when Vicchan returns the favor with more tongue than they would like. Yuuri cradles their baby in their arms, cooing softly at him in Japanese and grinning with wild abandon. Vicchan’s tiny tail wags up a storm, and Yuuri is immensely satisfied and content with their life with their puppy back in their arms.

Viktor plops down next to Yuuri on their bed a few inches away. Their bodies press together every time either breathes, and the smell of cinnamon and cologne wafts into Yuuri’s nose like a reminder. Yuuri sighs, burying their nose into Vicchan’s fur and inhaling the scent of the ocean and dog into their nostrils. 

“He’s such a lovable dog! I used to have my own dog too, when I was younger.” 

“Really?” Yuuri blinks up at Viktor’s nostalgic, bittersweet face. Viktor nods, the downcast glint of his eyes fading as he glimpsed over at Vicchan. A small smile plays on his lips as he reaches over to pat Vicchan on the head. The fluffy toy poodle stares up at Viktor with intelligent eyes and quietly woofs with his tongue rolling out of his mouth. 

Viktor’s laugh is carefree and joyous, bell like in sound and nothing like the clean, cut manufactured smiles--rough and shining falsely like a polished diamond--he wears when he’s troubled. Yuuri finds that the pleasant sound visits their dreams more often now, like a phantom of a whisper grazing intimately past Yuuri’s ear.

“What is your dog’s name?” 

“Makkachin.” 

“Did something happen to… Makkachin?” Yuuri cautiously asks. Viktor’s eyebrows knit together into one as he pats at Vicchan’s ears. 

“Not really. She’s just not here with me anymore.” Viktor vaguely answers, and Yuuri catches a glimpse under the diamond skin of Viktor’s raised walls. Yuuri nods, not daring to touch the subject anymore. They plop Vicchan into Viktor’s lap and smooths a hand down Viktor’s arm closest to them. 

They peer up, doe eyes honest and true. Viktor’s eyes are wider, caught off guard. Yuuri gestures to Vicchan, who snuggles up in Viktor’s lap and lays down with a sigh emitting from his nose. Viktor mechanically pets down Vicchan’s spine until the initial shock is replaced with fond mirth. 

“Well, Vicchan is with you now.” Yuuri states, matter of factly. They grin innocently up at Viktor and, because they couldn’t resist, pecks Viktor on the ball of his shoulder. 

Viktor’s cheeks pinken while the beginnings of a heart shaped smile emerges on his beaming face. “You’re right.” The silver haired male wraps an arm around Yuuri’s shoulder to pull them closer to him. He lays a kiss on Yuuri’s head like a king crowning a noble knight. 

“I have  _ Vicchan  _ with me now.” He echoes with a handsome twinkle of periwinkle eyes. He squeezes Yuuri closer to him and they stay in that position until Hiroko calls them down for a warm dinner filled with the promises of life and love. 

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


The night ends wonderfully, with Yuuri catching up with their old childhood friends and happily reminiscing over their old life in Japan while Viktor is mercilessly interrogated by Takeshi and Yuuko’s devious trio of triplets. Viktor is just as happily able to answer their questions quickly and convincingly, which astounds the parents and causes the triplets to loudly announce that they like Yuuri’s “new boyfriend” very very much. 

“I think I like him very much too,” Yuuri replies in Japanese, and the knowing, yet softened looks from both their childhood friends and their family warms their cheeks. Viktor is left out of the loop at that one particular phrase, but is helpfully translated for by Mari and Yuuko whenever Japanese is used (which was most of the night). 

Minako and Minami are unable to make it to the dinner, unfortunately, but they promise to try to show up in the next few days before Yuuri returns to America. And while Mari gives her brief, yet no less terrifying version of the shovel talk to Viktor, Yuuko (good old perceptive Yuuko--Yuuri doesn’t know how all the women he knows are all powerful and observant) tails behind them as they’re transferring dishes to the sink to have a word with them. 

“Who is this man, really?” Yuuko quietly inquires; the door of the kitchen is still a smidge open. If someone so desired, they could waltz up behind the door and eavesdrop without easily getting caught.  Meanwhile, Yuuri freezes while placing a cup in the sink. Outside of the kitchen, Viktor is chatting excitedly with Takeshi while their parents are nostalgically reminding each other of the past. It’s so  _ homey _ that Yuuri wonders if they’re hallucinating some lucid dream. 

“He’s my…” Yuuri struggles with the right word before sighing in defeat. “Why don’t you think he’s my, uh, boyfriend?” Yuuri weakly challenges back. They turn around, where Yuuko stares at him imploringly with arms behind her back.

“It doesn’t  _ feel  _ accurate. You kind of flinch whenever someone says ‘boyfriend’ and your story of your meeting was a half lie, wasn’t it?” It’s scary how correct and sharp-witted Yuuko is, especially when she’s the epitome of innocent baby faces and easily deceived smiles. The brunette is much shorter than Yuuri now, but Yuuri knows without a doubt that she could easily have them grovelling on their knees if she so pleased.

“You’re right.” Yuuri sighs whilst brushing a hand through their messy hair. “I’ll tell you the truth.” He summarizes the past few months with a simple, vastly under exaggerated few sentences that sounds more vague than a book’s summary. Yuuko appraises them with a perspicacious, meticulous eye before calmly breathing out her nose.

“And?” She finally says. 

Yuuri blinks. “Eh?” 

“What is he to you now?” Her eyes are steel bars and iron will. She pins him with an inescapable, serious stare that has Yuuri’s palms glistening with sweat. He doesn’t doubt for a second that Yuuko could be an assassin with that kind of calculating look.

“I don’t know.” Yuuri confesses. “But I want him to stay close to me.” And they  _ do.  _ Viktor makes them happy, simple as that. Without all the complications and emotional baggage Yuuri carries, the easiest answer is  _ yes,  _ they want Viktor with them and  _ yes,  _ they can almost say they really, really like Viktor (was it love, they wonder, when they’ve only known Viktor a short amount of time?). 

Yuuko’s eyes soften. “Okay. That’s all I wanted to know.” She throws herself into Yuuri’s body, her arms gathering up Yuuri into a tight bear hug. “I just want you to be happy, Yuuri,” came her muffled reply.

Yuuri smiles down gently at their best friend. Years back (probably even a decade ago), Yuuri harbored the most gigantic crush on their older friend. She had been fifteen while they were thirteen, and she was the loveliest girl Yuuri had ever been so close to. Takeshi bullied them plenty out of misguided jealous, but the two eventually became closer once Yuuri realized they held little chance with Yuuko and decided to be the supportive best friend.

Even now, Yuuri could confidently say they love Yuuko, just not romantically. They embraced for a few more seconds as Yuuko gave them one last squeeze. They chuckled at each other, probably appearing like an endearing couple if one didn’t notice the ring on Yuuko’s finger or how the two didn’t stick as close together. 

When Yuuri returned, Viktor greeted them first, showering Yuuri with kisses and a drawn out smooch on their lips in front of the whole group. Takeshi whooped with a smirking Mari while the rest of the group grinned broadly and laughed at Yuuri’s pink face (that they were forced to hide into Viktor’s shoulder). Viktor only grinned triumphantly, sticking to Yuuri like glue for the rest of the night. 

After that, everything flickered by in a dreamlike blur. Yuuri fell asleep with an airy smile on their face and a mini body of warmth curled up on their side. The next day (a Monday), Yuuri finally caught up on their sleep and passed out for over eighteen hours. Mortified, Yuuri endlessly apologized to Viktor on Tuesday until Viktor shut him up with a burning kiss on the lips (which Yuuri grumbled about not liking how he was shut up, which prompted Viktor to deviously kiss him until he was breathless enough to disagree). They stayed inside for the rest of the day, cuddling and watching strange Japanese tv shows.

The following Wednesday (in which Yuuri’s jetlag lessened enough for him to  they travelled back to Harajuku with Viktor for round two of their last date, in which making out in some secluded part of the shrine actually occurred. The art gallery was positively delightful, and Yuuri spent entirely too much time snapping pictures for Phichit and buying cute, artsy trinkets for his friends from the gift shop. Viktor posed by  _ every  _ painting and sculpture possible, snapping selfies faster than Phichit typing a rant on twitter. 

Thursday, Yuuri gave in to Viktor’s demands and showed the older male all of the aspects of his childhood, all of his favorite old “hang out” spots, and the ice skating rink Yuuko and Takeshi owned. Viktor clung to his back the whole time they were in the skating rink, and not because he didn’t know how to skate either. He always lay a hand on some part of Yuuri’s body (not that he minded much); the need for public displays of affection arose while in the rink, to which Yuuko teasingly said the “ice was wet” after they both stepped off--Viktor shamelessly beaming and Yuuri with red shame written all over his face.

The upside of the day, however, was when Yuuri bashfully, yet happily displayed the cute convenience store down the block (with the elderly man who still recognized him), the park that recently expanded to hold more families, the lovely gazebo next to the park, an old, used bookstore, a tiny bakery tucked in a corner, and many more. However, Yuuri’s favorite place was unmistakably the enormous oak tree sitting idly on the top of a grassy hill overlooking the entire quaint town. 

“Come on, Viktor! You’re almost there!” Yuuri encouraged as he stood at the very top with a picnic basket in his grasp. The evening sun basked the two in a romantic shade of faded daffodil goldens, lilac purples, cherry blossom pinks, and snowdrop blues mixed into one palette. Behind him, Viktor was puffing, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. 

“How do you have so much energy?” Viktor huffed indignantly. “Your stamina has no boundaries.” Yuuri ignored him as he began setting up the little picnic: the thin black blanket laid out on the floor, basket by its side and a little bouquet of golden ambrosias tied together with a white ribbon by the time Viktor finally stopped in front of Yuuri. 

Yuuri gazed up at Viktor, a small snicker loosening from his lips without his permission. He clamped a hand over his mouth before more peal of laughter released, but it was already too late. Viktor shot him a weak glare, but a warm smile enveloped his gorgeous face. 

“Don’t laugh, Yuuri.” Viktor pouted. “I’m just an old man.” 

“Viktor, you’re two years older than me.” Yuuri reminded the other, but Viktor conveniently “lost his hearing” for a brief moment as he gawked down at the blanket, the basket, and the pretty flowers by Yuuri’s side. Yuuri shyly gazed up at Viktor, offering a weak, “Surprise?” that sounded more like a question than an exclamation.

“Yuuri, is this…?” Viktor pointed at all of the items before him before pointing back at himself.

“Yeah, it’s for you. Or us. Mainly you.” Yuuri internally cringed at his clipped, awkward tone. He cleared his throat before restarting: “These are for you.” Lightly handing over the poorly wrapped bouquet to the Russian man, Yuuri smiled, enjoying the glimmer of the setting sun in Viktor’s expressive eyes. Viktor tenderly brought the bouquet up to his nose, smelling the sweet scent of the ambrosias and feeling himself spellbound and falling deeper into  _ this  _ brilliant feeling called love.

“Thank you, love.” Viktor gracefully sat down across from Yuuri. The Japanese man nervously brought out his own homemade food for the evening; he was nervous only because it was his first time attempting something like  _ this _ and he didn’t know if the flavors was correct or if the soup tasted like shit or if Viktor would laugh in his face at the feeble attempt. 

“I hope you like it. Uh, this is my first time making this, so… It probably won’t taste good.” Yuuri fidgeted as he laid out bowls in front of the two of them, spoons, napkins, and a basket of baguette bread he picked up from the bakery he showed Viktor. 

“No, I will like it!” Viktor openly declared, and Yuuri lightly chuckled in response. His heart pounded harshly as he slowly tore the lid off of the large metal bowl the soup was in. Yuuri marvelled the way Viktor’s eyes widened and how the stars in his eyes only became more profound. The lid was off, the stakes were high, and Yuuri was positive that he wouldn’t last the night while his heart wracked up a heart attack in the background. 

“Is this  _ borscht?”  _ Viktor brought his hands up to his face as if Yuuri just proposed to him. The raven haired male meekly nodded, scooping up a little bit of the Russian soup into each of their bowls and handing Viktor a piece of baguette (that he graciously asked the baker to cut up for him; lord knows his nerves would send one of them to the hospital). 

Viktor dug in first without a single ounce of hesitance. Yuuri followed at a much more cautious pace, and he anxiously awaited the final verdict from the male he was desperately trying to impress. Viktor’s eyes suddenly flew open as he yelped,  _ “vkusno!”  _ (va-cruise-nah? Yuuri had no idea) to the heavens and began shovelling more hot soup onto his tongue. 

“V-Viktor! Slow down! You’re going to choke or burn yourself!” Naturally, the Russian man  _ had  _ to burn his tongue. Yuuri sighed, feeling even more drained as he handed Viktor a water bottle while the other man frantically fanned his mouth, tongue out. As Viktor was chugging down the water, Yuuri decided to try the soup for himself and was actually astonished by how well it turned out. Granted, he didn’t know what  _ actual  _ borscht was supposed to taste like, but for a first time attempt, he did decent.

“That was fun! I think I almost died!” Viktor all too cheerfully commented. He returned to chowing down the soup at a fast, but more careful rate while taking bites of the baguette at the same time. Yuuri was pretty impressed when Viktor finished his meal in the next ten minutes, which left Yuuri to continue eating while Viktor waited. Fortunately, Viktor’s ability to talk about anything and everything proved to be useless as Yuuri interjected with small hums.

“These flowers are so pretty, Yuuri! Thank you! I love flowers!” Viktor gushed; contrary to the energy in his voice, his fingers were exceedingly gentle as they lightly plucked at the flower’s petals.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you like them.” Speaking of which…”Wait, so whatever happened to the cactus I gave you?” Yuuri curiously asked. He was still curious about why Viktor never mentioned it after Yuuri promptly delivered the plant to him. That particular day wasn’t a day that Yuuri remembered fondly, but now that the topic of plants was being discussed, might as well know whether or not Viktor threw the cactus away.

“Cac..tus..?” Viktor hesitantly asked, brows furrowing together in confusion.

“Yeah? It was like a small one that’s like supposed to grow flowers and it was from, uh,  _ Madame Cheri’s?”  _ Yuuri described, using his hands to motion at the size of the plant and the invisible flowers that would grow if Viktor took proper care of it.

“Wait, that was  _ you?”  _ The blue eyed male said in disbelief. 

“Uh, yeah? Did you not… Did you not, uh, know this whole time?” 

“Yuuri,  _ my sunbeam _ , there was no letter or anything to indicate who the sender was.” 

“Oh.” Yuuri  _ did  _ just buy the plant right away and then beelined it straight to Viktor’s apartment without writing a letter or ever mentioning it to Viktor again. He just  _ assumed  _ that Viktor would know or that Christophe would have portrayed how Yuuri looked like to Viktor, and the latter would have guessed it was Yuuri. Wow. This was a goddamn mess.

_ “Fuck.”  _ Yuuri cursed in Japanese. He buried his face into his hands in humiliation. 

“Oh, Yuuri. I didn’t know who sent me the cactus, but I was very happy.” Yuuri made a noise akin to a deflating balloon. “I’m not good at taking care of plants, you see, so I’m happy that I have one that’s pretty  _ and  _ easy to take care of.” Yuuri peeked his eyes through his hands. Viktor’s undivided attention was on him, and once Yuuri noticed, Viktor scooted closer to the latter. He moved the dishes to one side before planting himself firmly next to Yuuri, shoulders brushing without them moving and his hand skirting over Yuuri’s like a gentle breeze.

“Imagine my surprise when Chris suddenly hands me a bag and inside is a tiny cactus. I was so happy and I demanded Chris tell me who the sender was, but he had no name. There was no letter or signature or  _ anything.”  _

“Did Christophe describe me?” 

“Yes.” Viktor laughed. “But he wasn’t too specific. Just said a young Asian man.” 

Yuuri rose an eyebrow at Viktor. “That’s all?” Well, now he could see why Viktor would be confused.

“Yeah,” Viktor shook his head with a fond smile. “Chris isn’t all too good at remembering people unless they have a  _ large  _ visual impact on him. Usually it’s the ones with nice butts.” Viktor ends with a flirty wink that sends flutters of butterflies down to Yuuri’s toes.

“Flatterer.” 

“I admit it.” Viktor’s grin is infectious; however, it turns into something more serious, determined. “I’ll also confess, I thought your gift was from someone else. From a client that wanted to express his gratitude for my help.” Yuuri’s heart sank at the words.  _ A client. A goddamn client. He thought I was some other client.  _ Suddenly, the sugary sweet words and affectionate touches and the dazzling smiles don’t feel as magical to Yuuri anymore.

“Well, I’m glad it was you that sent it.” Viktor continued. Yuuri nodded, not quite meeting Viktor’s eyes anymore. He backed away a little under the pretense of collecting the dishes and setting them back into the basket. To his right, Viktor watched him with a frown. 

“Yuuri? Is something the matter?” Viktor touched his shoulder, and Yuuri couldn’t contain the flinch. He laughed weakly, so weak that it sounded like sobs to his ears, and tucked the lid back over the basket. He sluggishly returned back to pressing his shoulder against Viktor’s, though it didn’t feel as satisfying as before.

“No, sorry. It’s, um, getting dark and I guess I got like spooked. Haha…” Yuuri shifted his eyes to the ground as he tucked a longer strand of hair behind his ear. Viktor hummed, unconvinced, but luckily didn’t comment further on the matter.

He could obviuosly sense the sour turn in the mood, so the Russian man gingerly picked an ambrosia from the bundle and tucked it behind Yuuri’s ear.

“Beautiful.” Viktor’s voice was soft, yet it rung loud and clear on the empty hill. The sun dipped down the horizon until the milky gray sky was left behind, no stars in sight. Despite the darkness draping over their forms like makeshift winter coats, Yuuri could clearly see the blue irises of Viktor’s eyes and the waterfall of silver bangs floating over his eyes. He shuddered, but not from the cold.

“Thank you for this adorable date, Yuuri. I’m having fun. No one’s ever done something as kind as this for me before, so thank you.” Viktor delicately brought Yuuri’s hand up to his lips. He kissed every single fingertip, brushing electric strokes of pink across Yuuri’s blank fingertips like a paintbrush over a canvas. Yuuri’s mind was in turmoil, but in the midst of it all, he could feel the shudder from his heart as it sighed deeply. 

“I’m glad.” Yuuri’s reply sounded frail. He tore his fingers away; they felt like thorns pierced them and it would be no shocker to him if he suddenly noticed blood dripping like nectar from his fingertips. However, the brown eyed man cuddled up to Viktor, his head resting lightly on the taller man’s shoulder. 

_ I’m glad…  _ his mind whispered to the dead oak tree that he adored--the same one in which his mother brought him to, in which she promised Yuuri that he would find someone that  _ was  _ home, and the same one that Yuuri silently wept under.

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


Friday, Yuuri visited the beach with Viktor, Minako’s car, and Vicchan. They giggled in front of cameras like children, dipped their warm toes into frigid waters, and ran around the beach with Vicchan on their heels. Viktor decided to wear a cute white sundress that day, despite it being windy and freezing by the ocean. Yuuri thought he looked adorable with the red high on his cheeks and the wind blowing his hair behind his smiling form.

Yuuri’s mind stayed congested on Saturday, so he ran away with the excuse of errands bitter on his tongue and no explanation of where he was going. Viktor allowed him to leave easily, saying something about visiting Minako for a free drink at the bar she worked at. Yuuri travelled all the way to Tokyo by accident with music crammed into his ears and a sense of disoriented pain lingering around his chest. Even in the middle of all the commotion of his brain, Yuuri still managed to buy Christmas presents for the people that mattered in his life, even Viktor.

However, despite being crowded in such a huge city with people all around his body, Yuuri had never felt more alone than that moment. 

On Sunday, the day of Christmas Eve, Yuuri woke up in the afternoon after a long night of talking with Phichit and Yuri. Viktor was teaching his mother how to make European breakfast dishes when they strolled into the kitchen. The silver haired male perked up at the sight of a disgruntled Yuuri and stopped in front of the other person. Oddly enough, he didn’t cling to Yuuri per usual, and instead allowed a certain amount of space to drift between them. Yuuri was confused, but also slightly thankful for the little bit of air they could breath while still pondering over their lost thoughts.

The day passed by in a similar fashion as the first few days back in Japan: they were lazy and experimenting Hiroko’s different European dishes and snacks Viktor taught her while the duo laid in front of the television. Yuuri fell asleep halfway through some random Christmas movie playing and woke up again with their head in Viktor’s lap and the man’s fingers carding through their hair. A sense of tranquility was finally discovered after two days of turmoil.

Viktor’s fingers pulled away as soon as Yuuri stirred, and in the muddy, dead mindset they were in, Yuuri grumpily forced Viktor’s hands back into the nest of their tousled hair. Viktor obliged with a slight chortle, and Yuuri sank back into the best sleep they’ve had since before the trip. They finally awoke two hours later, when most of the guests were arriving and making a loud entrance greeting on the way in (Minami was a little too pleased by how he caught Yuuri off guard and half awake. Viktor helped by shielding Yuuri away from a football tackle courtesy of both Minako and Minami).

Christmas was basically the same, except Viktor was there too. Viktor filled up some sort of space in Yuuri’s heart, and Yuuri couldn’t remember a time they were this content, this  _ whole  _ by the presence of someone other than his family. Viktor fit perfectly with the rest of their slightly insane, warm family, and Yuuri just  _ could not  _ unsee Viktor as a part of the family. The image was too strong, too powerful. Yuuri really needed a drink. Or five.

Fortunately, Yuuri didn’t get themselves drunk  _ again  _ this time around, much to Viktor’s disappointment after hearing about drunk Yuuri’s more.. Risque actions. Yuuri was just lucky that they haven’t been caught by a police officer and sent to jail (“Oh you almost did!” Phichit vaguely and gleefully shatters Yuuri’s dreams and also confirms Yuuri’s decisions to never  _ ever  _ let drunk Yuuri take over again).

Overall, Christmas Eve was just another happy year with Yuuri and Co. plus Viktor filled with delicious home cooked food, merry company, cheerful Christmas music, and the adults getting drunk while Minami and the triplets watch on in equal parts horror and amusement. Yuuri abstained from alcohol this time around as well, but still ultimately became tipsy after Viktor and Minako (and sometimes Takeshi) kept pressing drinks into their hands. 

It was kind of sad that Yuuri couldn’t see another year without Viktor being in it to brighten the room.

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


Like most things, there’s an end in sight. Which is exactly how Yuuri finds himself nervously shifting from foot to foot while wearing a slightly tight, dark gray tuxedo and a wrinkly baby blue tie tied messily in the front. He doesn’t have a single clue of how tuxedos work (since the last time he wore one was at some distant aunt’s wedding when he was nineteen), but Mari reassured him that he looked fine with a casual thumbs up while his mother gushed over him while smoothing down the wrinkles of his coat. 

Christmas Day is finally here, as well as Viktor’s birthday. Yuuri doesn’t know if he’s ever felt as anxious as he does today, but he’s fairly certain it’s in the top ten things he nearly shat himself over due to nerves (with that dreadful public speaking class he was required to take two years ago being number one). 

Earlier that day, Yuuri had started the day with breakfast in bed for Viktor and the Christmas presents he bought for the other man. Viktor was extremely excited as he tore through decoration paper and the bag to find a cute Harajuku style outfit with the black platform shoes with the heart pattern, a striped long sleeve crop top with red hearts on the elbows, black shorts, and fishnet stockings. He had squealed, throwing himself onto Yuuri and nearly toppling over the tray of empty dishes that was previously his breakfast. 

At lunch, Yuuri took Viktor out to a cute dog cafe in Tokyo with Minako’s car (she winked and wiggled her eyebrows at him suggestively when he asked to borrow it), then Yuuri led Viktor over to the Tokyo SkyTree after barely being able to separate himself from the adorable puppies (but he only paid for like three hours with the dogs). Viktor, again, took way too many selfies  almost a thousand and a half feet off the ground. It was endearing though since Viktor decided to wear the outfit Yuuri bought for him and the same silver wig he wore the first time around. 

And finally, now is the time for Yuuri to  _ really  _ bring this day to a wonderful, amazing end.

Yuuri fidgets in his spot, clicking and unclicking his phone on and off to check the time. 6:18 pm, the time mocks him. There’s no time limit or pressing reservations at fancy, overpriced restaurants that Yuuri must attend to, but the more time passes, the more anxious he grows. 

After what feels like a decade (when in reality, only ten more minutes flew by), Viktor emerges from the daydream Yuuri’s still convinced he is and descends down the stairs with a nimble grace only royalty possessed. Yuuri’s jaw drops, and he’s left breathless at the foot of the stairs like some teenager picking up their prom date.

Viktor grins in delight at Yuuri’s obvious flabbergasted daze before sweeping up in front of the Japanese male like some kind of prince charming. He collects both of Yuuri’s hands into his own, gracing the back of each hand with a spine tingling kiss and a handsome wink that nearly buckles Yuuri’s feet from under him. 

“Hi.” Viktor greets as he tangles their hands into one. Yuuri quickly slaps his jaw shut, swallowing loudly. It doesn’t help that Viktor’s eyes stray down his throat with half desire, half content.

“Uhhh, hi.” Yuuri stutters. He mentally stomps one foot over the other to spring into action, tugging Viktor over to the front door. Mari stands out in the open with her back leaning against the door frame by the entrance; behind her, Minako, Hiroko, and Toshiya, peek over each other’s shoulders as Minako impatiently shushes the giggling, whispering parents to “secretly” catch the adorable scene. Yuuri sends a pleading glance over to Mari, who simply shrugs in a what-can-you-do gesture. Real supportive.

Viktor snickers as Yuuri quickens his pace towards the car parked outside. He squeezes Yuuri’s hand in sympathy before being sped off to the vehicle. Behind the two, Mari yells for them to be back before midnight in English while Minako obnoxiously screams about packing her glove department with condoms in  _ both  _ English and Japanese. The resulting cackles from his family are enough for Yuuri to manhandle Viktor into the pink vehicle before he does something dumb, like beg Viktor to ramp off his body using the car.

“Well that was…” Viktor’s frail attempt at keeping in his guffaws is duly noted, and Yuuri sourly pulls out into the street while conjuring up different methods of maiming Viktor without actually killing him. 

“Shush.” Yuuri snaps with little heat; he’s still a little enraptured by how devastatingly attractive Viktor is in a form fitting ebony suit, complementing tie (that’s  _ not  _ a messy knot like Yuuri’s), slim dark silver gloves, and black oxfords with a slightly bigger heel (not like he should gain any more height, the tall bastard). 

“No, no, it’s great.” Viktor snorts. He clears his throat at Yuuri’s weak glare and shields his trembling mouth with a practiced hand. 

“I  _ will  _ turn this car around,” Yuuri warns, in spite of sounding identical to a harried mother with a group of unruly kids after picking them up from soccer practice in a white eight seater minivan. 

“Okay,  _ mom.”  _ Viktor jokes, which earns him a light slap on the shoulder for his efforts. They lapse into silence afterwards with only soft music found in coffee shops as background noise. The sun set a while ago, cloaking the earth in midnight blue, snow white, and a mixture of the two blending into a gradient across the cloudy sky. There’s not many other cars around in Hasetsu, and Yuuri’s happy he found a place close enough to his small town that won’t have any cars during this time.

“So, where are you taking me, Yuuri? A restaurant? McDonald’s? A  _ motel?”  _ He winks suggestively at Yuuri, “No wonder Minako packed the glove department with condoms, you sly dog.” Yuuri rolls his eyes at that.

“If you keep asking, we’re going straight to the woods where I’ll  _ murder  _ you.” Viktor gasps, ever the dramatic actor.

“You would kill me after all the fun dates I’ve taken you to? You wound me deep down, Yuuri.  _ Deep  _ down.” He braces a hand over his chest, grinning like the dork he is as Yuuri snorts out ugly laughter from his nose.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Hmm, only for you.” He adds another wink, which only garners a grunt from Yuuri as the other man focuses back onto the road. A cozy, romantic atmosphere rides above their heads as Yuuri switches the station to popular Christmas songs. “Jingle Bells” charms Viktor enough to begin a solo quest of belting the notes out in an ear-piercing concert for fun while coaxing Yuuri into joining him. 

Yuuri does, albeit reluctantly, for the last thirty seconds of the song. When the notes wash away from the speakers into some radio host’s voice, Viktor finally stops his awful rendition of the popular Christmas tune and switches to humming instead. Christmas songs always seems to bring the cheer out of everyone, Yuuri observes, and he smiles to himself as Viktor bobs his head side to side. 

Unfortunately, the Christmas songs aren’t enough to deter Viktor from snooping around the car, and he starts with the most interesting part yet: the glove department. As Yuuri is too wrapped up in  _ not  _ sliding the car into the empty land nearby, Viktor snaps open the department with a loud click while softly singing “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” under his breath. 

“Viktor, what are you doing?” Yuuri swivels his head to the side to regard Viktor with a reprimanding look. Viktor is too immersed in scavenging through the glove department without a hint of remorse to properly reply back.

“Oh! Yuuri, look!” Which is something you should  _ not  _ say to someone driving a vehicle on icy winter roads, “I found the condoms!” He excitedly announces while brandishing a goddamn ziplock bag of Christmas wrapped  _ (literally)  _ condoms in gaudy Christmas designs found on actual presents. Yuuri is both horrified and suicidal at this point.

“Viktor!” The car swerves dangerously to the right as Yuuri snatches the bag away from Viktor’s hands. “Put them back! We are not going to be using these condoms!” 

“Uh, I think we both need to get tested for STI’s before we can go that far--” Yuuri rolls his eyes so far back into his skull, he nearly blacks out.

“I  _ meant,  _ we’re not going to be doing anything tonight!” Yuuri pauses for a short second, but it’s enough time for a devious grin to spread across Viktor’s face like germs on some kid’s hands. 

“Maybe!” Viktor sings, happily snatching the ziplock bag back and laying it down on his lap. He resumes his treasure digging, oohing and aahing at different things--why Minako would have a box of uno cards, a shot glass, and allergy pills are  _ beyond  _ Yuuri’s comprehension and level of sanity. 

“Aww, there’s even a note from Minako!” Yuuri has a sinking feeling about this. “And she even gave us a bottle of lube! How thoughtful!” Viktor unfolds the piece of paper as Yuuri groans, hunching his back and hoping that the darkness outside will cover his pink ears.

“‘ _ Dear Yuuri and Viktor.’  _ Oh, I’m in here too!” Viktor mirthfully declares. Yuuri eyes the bridge they’re coming up upon and wonders what it would be like to drive straight off of it.

_ “‘I hope you guys have a Merry Christmas! And a Happy Birthday to you too, Viktor. We’ll celebrate with you when you two come back from your steamy date,”  _ oh, she added a winky face!” 

“Can you… not read it?” Yuuri requests, but is shut down by Viktor’s entertained face.

“Nope!” He chirps before breezing through the god awful letter.  _ “‘I’ve packed lube and condoms for both of you to promote safe sex practices! My christmas present to you two! I hope you enjoy your date and each other! Love, Minako.’”  _

“Oh my god.” Yuuri groans, sagging his raised shoulders down rapidly and dramatically as he breathes out an over exaggerated sigh. Viktor is  _ still  _ laughing behind his gloves, and Yuuri can only be grateful for the fact that he can pull into an empty parking lot for a gigantic, ominous looking building.

“Okay, well, we’re here.” Yuuri claims. He finds entirely too much satisfaction from the nervous, shifty eyes of Viktor, who eyes the building with an apprehensive frown before turning back to stare imploringly at Yuuri. Yuuri maintains the best monotone facade as possible as he unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the door. He hears Viktor copy his movements at a more cautious pace, surveying the area with tense shoulders as Yuuri picks up a familiar picnic basket and two engulfing blankets. 

They begin the trek over to the entrance of the abandoned building as Viktor nervously glances back and forth between building and car. “So is this the place you’re going to kill me or are we going to have sex in there,  _ then  _ die?” 

“Yes.” Yuuri answers with a stony face. Viktor shivers.

“Is that a yes to both or…?” 

“Yes.” Yuuri rolls his eyes as he clasps onto Viktor’s fingers first. Viktor jumps nearly a foot in the air before shining a sweaty grin in Yuuri’s face like some high beam flashlight. “Relax, Viktor.” And man, was that almost ironic coming from Yuuri.

“I had the place rented out for today. I hope you like it?” Yuuri tugs Viktor farther into the building to reveal rows of theater like seats and a dome shaped ceiling that spanned across the spacious room. With no people other than Yuuri and Viktor, the empty space is both lonely and terrifying. 

“Of course I’ll like it! I like everything you…  _ Whoa.”  _ Viktor gapes. Yuuri giggles anxious under his breath as he switches on the machine that spills dots of lights onto a swirling background of black sea. They can still see the stars from the control room, but Yuuri prefers to have a better vantage point outside, in the audience. He switches a few controls so that slideshows of galaxies, planets, and shooting stars will slowly emerge on the screen.

“Oh,  _ love,  _ this is so  _ beautiful.”  _ The silver haired man chokes on a thunderstruck breath as he clutches onto Yuuri’s arm for dear life. Yuuri chortles. He ushers Viktor to the center of the stage where astronomers or space geeks (or both) speak for lectures. Depositing the blanket down in the center is tedious with Viktor practically plastered to his back, but he makes do. 

“Another picnic! I love picnics!” Viktor beams down at Yuuri with alarming luminosity before tapping a thumb against his lower lip. “Then again, this is my third time on a picnic and second time on a picnic with someone I actually cherish.” 

“You’ve never been on a picnic?”  _ With someone you “cherish”?  _ Yuuri scrunches his eyebrows together while his heart rate speeds up--he’s severely conflicted on whether to feel sympathy or joy at this point.

“No.” His eyes flutter to the ground, a cold washing of winter ice waters coating his blue orbs. “I never have.” 

“I’m sorry.” Yuuri says, and he really means it. He pats Viktor twice on the back of his palm before attending to the hot food in thermal containers. With the help of his mother, Yuuri created a simple, yet delicious picnic basket consisting of appetizer, entree, dessert, and drink. He places a pair of black chopsticks, a fork and spoon set, a sauce container, a Japanese tea cup, and napkins in front of Viktor while the other man cranes his head up to fully observe the stars.

“Everything’s so pretty though! I haven’t been to a lot of picnics, but this one--and the one where we went to that pretty oak tree-are the best ones I’ve ever had!” Viktor happily gushes. His eyes sparkle like the actual stars themselves; yet, Yuuri would even argue that Viktor’s smile, radiance,  _ everything  _ outshine the stars.

“I’m glad.” 

“And everything is so perfect! Well, almost perfect. I love you Yuuri, so I say this only out of the love and kindness of my heart, but… That tie is  _ hideous  _ and you need to burn it.” Viktor clicks his tongue in agitation as his eyes rove up and down Yuuri’s body. “Actually, you need to burn that suit too.” Yuuri pauses in the middle of opening the lid for the appetizer: gyoza.

“Uh, what’s wrong with my suit? And my tie?” He self consciously sinks into a turtle receding back into its shell position and shies away from Viktor as much as possible. VIktor’s expression falters, softens from its critical harshness as he pets Yuuri’s hand.

“It’s wonderfully skin tight, but your suit doesn’t accent you  _ full  _ potential,  _ my sunbeam.  _ And that tie is just simply too horrendous, so you should burn it.” Yuuri’s anxiety subsides a little, and he’s even comfortable enough to roll his eyes at Viktor fondly while pouring soy sauce into both of their sauce containers, then green tea into both of their cups. He opts to “process” Viktor’s jabs at his poor fashion choices by slowly chewing on gyoza afterwards.

He swallows. “Viktor, I’ve had this suit since I was like eighteen. This is literally the only suit I own.” Viktor gasps, as if owning only one suit six years prior is a criminal offense. It probably is by Viktor’s standards.

“Yuuri! We have to go suit shopping as soon as possible. In fact, let’s go tomorrow!” Yuuri nearly chokes on a piece of gyoza.

“N-No, no! It’s fine! I don’t have enough money for a suit, and it’s not like I’m going to need one anytime soon either.” Yuuri recognizes Viktor’s thoughtful look so he frowns in a chastising manner. “And  _ no,  _ you can’t buy me a suit. Even if it’s for Christmas.” 

“But, Yuuri!” Viktor’s whine falls on deaf ears--Yuuri’s already yanking off the lid from his entree bowl and drooling at the wonderful scent of sweet, sweet  _ katsudon.  _ Viktor, as if realizing he’s talking to a lost cause at the moment, frankly drops the subject (for now) as he pries his own lid off. The steam billows into both of their faces as the tantalizing smell of crisp onions, tender pork cutlets, soft rice, and cooked egg wafts into their noses.

In complete synchronization, the duo digs into the meal with gusto as different methods of expressing their delight falls from their lips. After a solid five minutes, the large bowls of katsudon are promptly devoured. 

“Ah, I love katsudon!” Viktor jovially remarks. He pats his belly in satisfaction while Yuuri gathers up the entree and appetizer dishes back into the basket. Anxiety flares in his belly; the dreaded dessert is within his shaky grasp, and Yuuri has little idea of how Viktor will react to the  _ napoleon  _ he’s attempted that’s neither an ordinary Christmas or birthday confectionary. 

“Uh, I tried making you this, um,  _ napoleon?”  _ He tastes the odd wording in his mouth as he continues. “And this was my first time ever making something like this, and it was really complicated, so I hope you like it?” Viktor’s shocked expression is a little bit of a confident booster, and Yuuri licks his chapped lips as he reveals the sweet puff pastry sweet. 

“I was trying to be, I dunno, creative? I didn’t want to just make a regular old cake or a Christmas dessert. And I dunno, I looked up Russian desserts and found napoleon, so I thought, ‘why not’? Sorry, I have no idea if it’s good and you’ve probably had better.” Yuuri babbles. He cuts a sloppy slice to Viktor before feeling the need to explain himself some more.

“Sorry the decoration isn’t good either. I don’t know how people are able to make the chocolate on top look so  _ nice _ , and I did, like, try and everything, but it didn’t come out right. Oh, and sorry there’s no candles either. It’s hard to stick candles into something with a similar texture to a cream puff. So, um, Happy Birthday, Viktor. And Merry Christmas.” 

“Yuuri.” Viktor lovingly sighs. He trails a finger down Yuuri’s cheek, which automatically shuts the raven haired male up. “This is wonderful.  _ You’re  _ wonderful. This is your first time making  _ napoleon _ , so it’s not going to be perfect. I don’t expect it to be perfect, and I don’t expect  _ you  _ to be perfect either.” Yuuri has an inkling that Viktor is speaking beyond the dessert, beyond Yuuri, and beyond the emotional connection between them. 

“I just… This is new.” Viktor confesses. “This is so  _ new  _ to me. I’ve--I’ve never been treated the way you treat me. I can be myself with you and I can  _ love  _ being myself with you. You don’t judge and you’re one of the most supportive, caring person I’ve ever met in my life. It’s all new to me because I’ve lived for so long--such a long time--since I’ve experienced being alive. And it’s all because of  _ you.”  _

Yuuri’s eyes water. “But I’m just  _ Yuuri.  _ Why would you want to be with me when you have plenty of other people to choose from? There’s more beautiful, more talented- _ -better  _ people out there. I’m just an emotional mess.” He sniffles, angrily rubbing at a stray tear falling from his eye. Viktor moves closer to Yuuri until he’s only a few inches apart with smoldering eyes and a captivating grim line on his mouth.

“Please don’t ever describe yourself as less beautiful and talented and  _ better  _ than anyone else. You’re an amazing person, Yuuri. You’re way out of  _ my  _ league. You’re kind and caring and so, so  _ attractive  _ that I can’t stop thinking about you every night. I want to hold you in my arms, make love to you, whisper everything I love in your ears. I want to show you how much you affect me, and how much I would love to affect you.” Viktor isn’t touching any part of Yuuri’s body, yet Yuuri can feel invisible fingers all over him, and the honest, husky voice that Viktor is using is tangible enough on his warm skin.

“Viktor…” Yuuri’s doubts are still there. They always are.

“I wish you were mine, Yuuri. And I admit, I was rash about my decision. I rushed you into something that obviously makes you doubt my feelings--which I’m not blaming on you--and that’s not what I intended.” 

“You’re not--it’s not your fault though.” 

“But it is, Yuuri.” His smile is a touch sad, eyes downcast. “I didn’t stop to consider your feelings. But I understand now. I’m grateful to have gone on this trip with you and to fall in love with you more everyday. You allowed me to accept myself and the fact that I’m willing to strive to be a better person.” 

Everything is so instantaneous. First the confession weeks ago, next the trip to Japan with Viktor by his side, then the continuous surprises one right after the other as Yuuri learns more and more about Viktor, and finally, the fact that Yuuri is slowly, bust steadily, falling in love with Viktor. Maybe it’s the romantic atmosphere or the pink aura clouding them into a lovesick vibe. Maybe it’s the content feeling of being  _ full  _ of deep affection or the hope swelling up into Yuuri’s stomach like an inflating balloon. Or maybe, hopefully,  _ amazingly,  _ it’s Viktor.

“Accept yourself?” Yuuri presses, feeling emboldened by the successful date and Viktor’s responses and the carnal desire for Yuuri to  _ know  _ more about the mysterious man. 

Viktor heaves out a dark breath. He tentatively speaks, but not without swishing the words around on his tongue first. “I… I grew up in a fairly conservative family. My father wanted me to grow up to be like him: some businessman with an obedient wife, three children, a nice car, and a house with extra rooms for my parents. My mother was-- _ is  _ the same. She wanted me to be married to some nice girl from my dad’s partner company grandchildren by the time I was twenty five and three grandchildren when I was twenty five.” 

His lower lip trembles, unbidden tears swarming his eyes. “Obviously, that didn’t happen.” He turns to Yuuri, looking lost and afraid and so much like a confused, abandoned child that Yuuri’s heart  _ rips  _ out of his chest, his blood cells sizzle like acid rain, and his dry throat seizes with unbearable pain.

“They loved me, I think. Or they thought they loved me, I don’t know. Either way, I was--I was--” His breath catches in his throat, adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he harshly gulps and turns eyes with the diamond tears to the ground. “I was abandoned.” 

Yuuri harshly inhales through his nose. Viktor’s head is turned to the side, but the unmistakable tremble of his tense shoulders show enough for Yuuri to understand. However, he doesn’t comprehend, will never comprehend the gut tearing feeling of being abandoned nor the following despair that engulfed Viktor after his crushing realization.

“I had long hair, a skip to my step, a thin figure like my mother. I loved dancing, singing, and drawing. While other boys my age took up sports, I liked art. While guys were ogling girls, I was torn between both. My father despised it. My mother was disappointed.” His shaking hand raises up to lightly mask a devastated frown. 

His tears are beautiful, anguished pearls, Yuuri somberly thinks to himself; he can physically experience the raw emotion within Viktor’s voice as the man is stripped bare down to the core. Yuuri imagines a child’s heart within the closed birdcage of Viktor’s ribs, imagines the wilting flower it is like the one from  _ Beauty and the Beast.  _

“You don’t have to continue.” Yuuri suggests more than offers. He scoots just a tad closer, hoping that his calming warmth can radiate into Viktor’s hunched up shell of loneliness and break the evil witches’ spell. 

“N-No, I’m fine. I’m okay.” Viktor heaves in and out, eyes closed. When he reopens them, he offers a fragile grin to Yuuri. “Thank you for listening to me, Yuuri. Thank you for being  _ you  _ and accepting me.” 

“Viktor…” Tears spring up into Yuuri’s eyes. He gasps as Viktor takes his hand--and his heart--and showers his fingertips with starry kisses. Above them, the pinks and purples and blues of white specked galaxies drowns the two men in a flurry of dark pastels, draping a stunning quilt of stars far, far away (past the naked eye) over their forms.

“There were other people that accepted me too, but no one’s ever made me feel even remotely as comfortable and happy as than when I’m with you.” Viktor tenderly discloses, lips still glued to the back of Yuuri’s hot palm. When the blue sun of his eyes peek beneath a cloud lining of lashes, Yuuri’s breath hitches in his throat, drains from his mouth into Viktor’s piercing eyes, and leaves him winded.

When he gazes in the unfathomable sapphires of Viktor’s eyes, he can  _ see  _ the person Viktor believes Yuuri to be. 

“I know it’s going to be difficult--for you and me both. I can be selfish and afraid and clingy. But, I can promise you that I will never try to hurt you. I want to… to open up to you. So please, don’t shut yourself out either.” The future is no longer bleak. There’s problems everywhere Yuuri turns his head, but since when was he ever without a challenge? And since when did Yuuri think of tomorrow as something  _ right  _ and exciting by Viktor’s side?

“...I’ll try,” he promises as Viktor ducks his head down with a smoldering grin. Yuuri grins back, but less confidently, less sure. However, he can confidently say that kissing Viktor is both a victory and a promise of something entirely new and strange and  _ wonderful.  _

“Thank you.” Viktor’s grin is enticingly pretty. Yuuri kisses him again, just because he can.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four things: 
> 
> -I had to cut it off bc it was getting too long, hence why Viktor and Yuuri don't talk more?? they def will next chapter so pls dont scream @me im tired and sad
> 
> -furrio pawsetksy is actually a fanfic I was gonna write months ago then never got around to doing it but if anyone's interested I'll post it (actually even if no one cares that's not gonna stop me lol)
> 
> -this fic is actually longer than I anticipated so get ready for more stuff ; )
> 
> -idk what happened to the napoleon they probably ate it after making out lol


End file.
